


Retrieval

by RandyWrites, TaangyChocolate



Series: AU: Magic Foster Family [4]
Category: Bombshells (Comics), DCU (Comics), Justice League Dark (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyWrites/pseuds/RandyWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaangyChocolate/pseuds/TaangyChocolate
Summary: There's no one in the world that Raven loves more than her parents. Constantine and Zatanna had been there for her from the moment she'd arrived on earth, and they'd never given her reason to doubt their intentions.Until a blank space in her memory of her time leaving Azarath and being summoned to Earth begins to worry the mage. Why is it so difficult for her to recall this time in her life? And why did Zatanna feel the need to take it away from her?The two sorceresses find themselves in a race against the clock, bending mind over matter to restore Raven's memories to their rightful place. And with any luck, to repair the damaged relationship between loving mother and daughter.(Co-authored work, originally hosted/posted via tumblr)





	1. Prologue: Suspicions

Her favorite thing about Wayne Tower had to be the view it offered. Gotham, by anyone’s standards, wasn’t exactly making the ’ _Most Beautiful Cities_ ’ list any time in the conceivable future. But that didn’t stop the empath from appreciating the bird’s eye view that the tallest building in the city offered.

It was a view Robin had shared with her many times in the past. One that usually offered them both peace from the turmoil of the city below. A respite from the lives they led and the challenges they faced.

And she knew she’d find him on this particular day, morose and mourning as far away from the city while maintaining a watchful eye over it.

She knew Batman would have let him take the night off. She knew he was too proud even at thirteen years old to admit that he should have taken him up on the offer. She knew above all of that, he’d need someone to listen, acknowledge his pain, and then help to distract from it.

Sitting beside his perch along the edge of the building, she gently bumped shoulders with the boy wonder as rain tapped lightly on their heads. She brought up a shield to shelter them as it began pouring in quicker and heavier.

“How long has it been now?” she asked with alarming bluntness.

“Four years today. It, uh,” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck to alleviate the strain from staring down at the city for so long, “I guess it’s kinda getting easier. B’s still not so good at talking about this stuff, but…  _he gets it_. I know he gets it.”

Raven nodded absentmindedly as she pulled a leg up, resting her chin on her knee. “I’m sorry that I can’t…”

“Are you kidding?” he chuckled humorlessly, “When I found out about  _your_  parents…” He turned to see her purple gaze staring intently at him, backtracking nervously, “Sorry, I just-”

“No, tell me what you know. Mom and Dad, they,” she sighed, breaking eye contact and closing them for a breath or two. When she opened them again, they had returned to their normal navy hue. “They know more than what I remember about my mother and father. It’s like… there’s a gap. There’s a gap where my memory should be and I’m-”

“Too scared to admit that you want to remember it?” he guessed. She only nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Well… I know B’s bat-files say that your dad- sorry,  _father_ \- isn’t  _actually_  Satan himself. But he kinda might as well be. And your mother… It’s really weird…” He fidgeted nervously with his belt, eventually pulling out a birdarang and playing with it as he tried to find the right words.

“She was a Gothamite- Kind of- You already know she had a sister, and that she ran away from home, but… There’s so much about her cold-case disappearance that doesn’t add up. Even with all the…  _extra-dimensional_  stuff. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about-”

“Honestly? I think-” It was Raven’s turn now, to fidget nervously with her own tools of trade. She tucked her hand quickly inside her pocket to retrieve a worry stone, tumbled malachite with intricate deep green swirls and patterns. She’d kept it as a good luck charm for the better part of the year. Something to ward off a certain  _sinking_  feeling.

“I think Mom might’ve changed my memory,” she said in one breath. And suddenly a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Maybe to help me or something. But it’s getting harder and harder to remember Azarath, and everything between there and here.”

“Yeah, but you were also, what? Four? When you landed in Constantine’s apartment?”

“That’s not the point,” she glared at him in annoyance, “And I was  _almost_  six, thank you very much.” The ten year old stuck her tongue out at the boy as he laughed.

“I get it, though,” he said, putting his hands up as if to physically shield himself from her projections of anger, “No one wants to forget important stuff like that. And no one wants to think their memories are faulty.”

“No one wants them tampered with in the first place,” she mumbled, curling both her legs up then and hugging them close. She widened the shield over their heads as the wind began to knock the rain into a sideways slant.

“That doesn’t really sound like Zatanna though. I mean, messing with your memories? Why would she possibly-”

“Just drop it, okay? I was dumb to bring it-”

“No. Why would-”

They both turned in unison as an explosion erupted in Kingston and smoke was carried across the bay. Raven was grateful then for the distraction. A different, easier kind of turmoil to face head on.

“Ready to save some lives, Boy Blunder?”

“Don’t think this conversation is over, Blackbird,” he shot back.


	2. Prologue Pt. 2: Altered Memories

Raven lazily ran her fingers through Cass’ hair, deep in thought. The younger teen was all but laying on top of her, taking a nap before her patrol started. On the couch, Barbara and Dick were slumped against Jason’s sides, the flickering of the unwatched TV lighting up their features. Indecision twisted in her gut and she strove to keep her emotions at bay, but it was so  _hard_. 

She should be beyond elated right now, surrounded by her earliest, closest friends and her girlfriend in her arms. And most importantly, Jason was  _back_ , alive and relatively healthy. Yet after over a decade of learning how to control her emotions, how to just sit back and  _enjoy_ the little moments of happiness that occasionally showed themselves to her, she was still stuck in the past. 

Specifically five weeks earlier, when Jason all but fell back into their lives. She didn’t think of her surprise at seeing him, or the astonishment as she saw his autopsy scar, or the tinge of worry when green flashed in his once blue eyes. No, she thought of his shock and surprise as he learned that he had two more siblings, and that one of them was his replacement, not even a full year after his unavenged death. 

Raven thought back to his argument with B, how the anger and resentment flooded through the manor and even lingered on the back of Cass’ anxiety as the girl signed out her frustrations later that night. 

The empath had just barely navigated throughout the emotional chaos and by now there’d been some making up amidst the siblings, although none involving the Bat himself. As a result, Jason’s rant to her about how much parental figures  _suck_ ran through her mind more often than she’d like. He had practically tore out some of his (now white-streaked) hair, indignation and bitterness radiating off him as he growled out about B claiming to be ‘doing it for his own protection.’ 

“As if I don’t know how to take care of myself!” Jason had been working on a punching bag and she’d occasionally stop him to ensure his knuckles didn’t bleed, “Who the fuck cares that  _I_  need to know what happened! He sure as hell doesn’t! But  _no_ , I don’t get to choose my own fate, do I?!”

His seething words hit entirely too close to her heart. 

Which brought her to now, a month after that conversation, too consumed in her own thoughts to enjoy the few people who brought solace to her mind. The four people around her now were the only ones who knew of her suspicions, that one little wriggling conspiracy that  _refused_ to be put at bay. Her fingers twitched, aching for her worry-rock, but Cass was enough of a calming force to put her at ease. 

At least for now.

–

It turns out, that calm lasted all of three hours until she got home, easily unlocking the door to her mom’s apartment. Zatanna wasn’t back yet, but her presence still filled the room, from the lingering scent of coffee to the packs of cards interspersed in the bookshelves and the extra fishnets hanging over the hamper. 

Raven started the kettle and prepared to meditate, feeling the restless roiling in her stomach. Sapphire eyes glanced at the  _10:07_ on the clock, hoping that her mother wouldn’t get back until she was asleep. 

Fate obviously had different plans; Zatanna’s aura filled the hallway just seconds after her tea began to steep. Raven sighed and leaned her hip against the counter, clearing her mind as she pulled her hair out of its braid. Her mother slipped through the door and set her keys down, “Hey, Blackbird.” 

The magician raised a brow as her greeting wasn’t answered and stepped into the kitchen, softly pressing a kiss to Raven’s temple. Her lips pursed, recognizing the dull emptiness that occured whenever the empath sought to contain how upset she was by staying as stoic as possible. Sliding out of her gloves, she touched the young woman’s shoulder, “What’s wrong?” 

Raven shied away from the touch, keeping her gaze on the countertop, “Do you want tea?” 

Without waiting for an answer, a mass of black magic engulfed Zatanna’s coffee mug out of the dishwasher. Still on edge, azure eyes watched as the demoness filled the worn ceramic and set the steaming mug in front of the magician.

Trying to keep the atmosphere light, Zee softly commanded, “Rehsawhsid, esolc.” She tersely smiled at the fleeting sight of clean plates and cups already piled inside, “Hmm, I don’t remember doing the dishes this morning.” 

A flat laugh bubbled out of Raven, “No, I guess memories can be faulty like that, huh?”

Zee took a sip of unsteeped tea, powerless as a dark, slimy wave of animosity slid through the small kitchen. Unwilling to let Raven stew any longer than she already had, she looked up at her daughter, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. After a long, uncertain moment, Zatanna quietly asked, “How long have you known?”

Another sharp, humorless bark of laughter forced its way out of the mage and she spun to look at her mother, “How long? That’s all you want to know? Not, ‘how the hell am I supposed to respond to you doing something like this to me’?”

Zatanna tried to reach for her hand but Raven pulled away, keeping her gaze off to the side and on the floor, “I’ve had… doubts for a while now.” She roughly swallowed, remembering her conversation with Dick a few years ago and her confessions to Cass not half a year prior, “Wasn’t until I turned ten that I actually considered that  _you_ would ever… “

She ran a pale palm over her face, pinching between her eyes. A question that she’d agonized over, one that she’d considered and reconsidered for far too many hours snuck its way out, “Does Dad know?”

Zatanna hesitated, wringing her hands together. Raven’s lips trembled and the magician broke, “He does, but not the extent.”

The mage scoffed, the sound catching in her throat. She wiped at her eyes, refusing to even let the tears form. Unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice, she roughly ran a hand through her hair, “Do  _you_ even know the extent?!”

Her voice cracked at the end and Zatanna stood, taking a step towards her daughter, “Raven, you were so repressed after all that had happened, I didn’t want to wait until things got worse.”

“… Until things got  _worse_?” Raven looked furious and Zatanna remembered to take step back, trying to prevent her own anger from rising as the girl involuntarily projected. Cutting the teen off before her lips had even parted, the older woman hastened to explain, “You had so many nightmares, Blackbird. As soon as you truly started to trust us you used to wake us up with screaming night after night. We talked about– I thought that if you couldn’t remember what had happened, then those feelings wouldn’t be so intense.”

Raven rolled her jaw and rubbed at her temples, feeling her anger build up, “Did you  _ever_ plan on telling me?”

Zatanna faltered and her daughter took advantage, letting all her bottled up questions flow into the too-tight kitchen, “How long did you two even think about how I’d react? Did you even  _consider_ that I’d want to know about my past?” She was working herself up, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from forming, “Or would you just have let all this disappear if I hadn’t noticed? Just another something that you don’t have to bother yourself with? A little snippet that you’d never have to argue with me about? Why are you so against me knowing what happened?!”

“We didn’t think you were ready then!” Zatanna reached forward to grab Raven’s hands, “And eventually I thought that you’d be better off not having those memories hanging over your head.” She paused, noting all the emotions that were plain on her daughter’s face, “I just– damnit, Raven, I just wanted you to forget what you’d been through!”

Sapphire eyes squeezed shut, “You made me forget  _all_ of it!”

“Just the traumatic parts!”

“You made me forget my  _mom_!”

An unnatural, bitter pause filled the space between them; Zatanna heaved in a breath, “ _I’m_ your mom, Raven.”

“But Arella was my mom  _first_. And now I can’t–” A wave of sorrow splashed through the room and both took a step back, Raven’s hip hitting the countertop as she pulled their pain in, “–I can barely remember her  _voice_. And the last things she said to me, the last of Azarath before Trigon destroyed it… I can’t–I can’t remember  _any_ of that.”

Despite her best efforts, tears brimmed the edge of her eyes. With a blink, they cascaded down her face. Zatanna softly wringed her hands, “It hasn’t always been like that, though. You, you spoke about Arella before…”

“You  _know_ that memories aren’t absolute until kids are five or six.” A laugh at the tidbit, cold and emotionless, “And that’s if they’re lucky. I only remember a little about what Arella and Azarath were like, and the end of that is  _gone_!”

“They’re not  _gone_ , Raven…”

“But you still took them away! Not Dad, but  _you_!” The demoness abruptly stopped herself, turning her back to Zatanna and gripping the countertop, desperately trying to keep her ever-growing emotions at bay. The tears kept flowing as a quiet  _crack!_ emitted from the countertop, straining under her strength. At the sound Raven opened her eyes, glad that only two spread to stare at the toaster. 

A ragged sigh escaped, her shoulders slumping as she sought to contain too many emotions in entirely too little time.  _Azar_ , she wasn’t ready for this conversation; what she needed was to just… drink some tea and cuddle with Cass. 

Anything to keep her sane and stop her from saying something she’d believe but absolutely regret. 

Practically boring a hole into the toaster’s ‘bagel’ button, Raven asked, “Why’d you do it?” Zee took another step closer, her hands still wringing together. Ignoring the worried stare aimed at her back, the mage added, “You both  _know_ how dangerous magic can be and you decided that I was good enough to deal with it. Are you telling me you thought I could handle spells, hauntings, exorcisms and even  _Arkham_ but not my own damn past?!”

“I didn’t mean to alter that far, I just didn’t want to hurt you–”

“But you did!” 

A current of indignation soaked them both and the magician ran a hand through her hair, frustrated, “It was for your own protection!” 

Four red eyes flashed at the sentence and Raven shouted down at the countertop, “That’s not the point,  _Zatanna_!” 

The empath went still at saying her mother’s name, hearing only her own heavy breathing. Her arms trembled and she slowly crouched down, her forehead resting against the now-cracked counter. “That’s not the point…” She said, those four words morosely slipping out like a mantra, over and over again. Carefully, Zatanna approached her and touched her back. 

At the intrusion, the empath whispered, “Why didn’t you  _trust_ me?” 

Her mother shied away half an inch but immediately leaned in again, unflinching as Raven made no attempt to hold back her pain. Zatanna bit her lip, fighting off the intense projections but never moving her hand, “I’m sorry, Raven. We  _do_ trust you, we always have. I just… I just didn’t want you to get hurt even more by what you’d been through.” 

As the force of her words settled in, Zatanna let a melancholy chuckle escape, “But I guess that ended up happening anyway, huh?”

When Raven stayed quiet, Zee sat down and began to rub the empath’s back, moving to hug her from behind as trembling turned into angry sniffles. She softly kissed the back of her daughter’s head and began to sway back and forth, humming as she ran her fingers through her daughter’s long hair. 

“I’m so sorry, Blackbird.” 

The demoness shifted, prying Zatanna’s hands away. She turned around and sat down on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. The teen said nothing, just blankly staring at the floor as a million and one thoughts jumbled around in her head. Too many emotions, too many confessions, too many conversations to look over again;  _Azar_ she just needed tea and Cass’ kisses. A nice long distraction away from this apartment and her parents so she could process all of this properly. Her forehead met her knees and, her heart breaking at the sight, Zatanna hugged the empath from the side, “I can bring them back.” 

A long pause, one that the magician was too worried to break. Raven rolled her jaw, not bothering to look at her mother, “What?”

Zatanna sighed, “Your memories. Of Trigon and Azarath’s destruction and even your time in Hell.” Her thumbs rubbed circles against the demoness’ arm, “I don’t know how to bring them all back at once, just yet. Especially with how powerful you are now, but I–  _we_ can try.”

Raven pulled her arm away from her hug, not meeting her mother’s eyes just yet. A deep breath filled her lungs and her eyelids felt heavier than sandbags as she tried to force the lump out of her throat, “I–I don’t want you messing with my memories right now. Can it, can we wait a while?”

Zatanna’s lips timidly curled up and she pressed a kiss to Raven’s forehead, running her hands through the demoness’ long hair again, “Of course, I’ll be ready when you are.” 

“Also,” Pale thumbs rubbed together then rose up to rub at the teen’s temples, “Can I stay at Cass’ tonight? Maybe even until it’s time to go to Dad’s?”

The magician’s breath caught in her throat and her hands faltered for half a second, “Yeah. Will you, uh, will you still come visit during the day? I know I don’t have  _too_ many afternoon shows this week.” 

Raven softly nodded, feeling the tiny flicker of hope in Zatanna’s emotions, “I will if you let Dad know that I know about all of this.” 

Her mother’s answer was immediate, “Consider it done.” Zee paused as she considered her daughter for another long moment, “I know I’ve made some stupid, unforgivable mistakes. But I love you, Raven. More than words can describe.”

The empath wriggled under her stare, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from involuntarily quirking up as the sincerity of Zatanna’s words hit her empathy, “I love you, too.”

She ignored how empty the words sounded and let her eyes close as her mother rested their temples together, exhausted at the amount of emotion that was finally fading from the room. It made everything seem empty, stained with lingering specks of their argument and the scent of tea leaves and plaster. 

Raven wanted to see what time it was, how long until her girlfriend got off patrol and she could focus on getting cuddled and blocking out her home life for a night. But she couldn’t, not with her heartbeat throbbing behind her eyes and her mother stuck to her hip. Instead, Raven tried to think back to those very first days in Constantine’s tiny apartment. She’d apparently had repeated nightmares just weeks after arriving on the planet; who knows how’d she react  _now_?  

Hell, she had just wanted a conversation with Zatanna and lost her composure… could she really expect remembering her past to go well? Tired and overwhelmed, the demoness leaned back and felt the countertop shift behind her. She cringed, a secret part of her relieved at the simple distraction, “Sorry about the counter. I can fix it later.” 

“S’ok,” Zatanna squeezed her hand, “We can deal with it tomorrow.”


	3. Memory Lane: More Than A State of Mind

“To enhance your perception of mind,” Zatanna began, “Normally, we would use some kind of hallucinogen. The more natural, the better. But, because those tend to have nasty emotional side effects, we’ll be using a dissociative drug instead-”

“Wait,  _drugs_? Like, what we  _actively fight_  to take off the-”

“Now is  _really_  not the time to get in a moral tizzy over this kind of thing, luv,” John sighed, “Do ya want our help in bringing back your memories or not?”

No, she really didn’t. But Raven didn’t have much choice in the matter. They were the ones who suppressed these memories of hers, and they were her best option for getting them back.

She didn’t  _want_  their help. But she damn well  _needed_  it.

“Don’t all drugs cause mood swings anyways?” she asked, dodging his question, “Isn’t there still a danger to-”

“To yourself and to others? Absolutely,” her mother sighed, before gesturing to Constantine, “Which is why we have your father here to ground us and to keep either of us from leaving while we take this  _trip down memory lane_.”

“Literally and metaphorically speaking, naturally,” John smiled.

“Dad, I’d  _really_  appreciate it if you wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Well,  _pardon me_  for trying to break the tension with a bit of humor.”

“No one knows these drugs better than your dad, blackbird. You need to trust us here. You’re in good hands.”

Raven took a deep breath, focusing before she’d accidentally let a scathing remark escape.

’ _Anger leads to suffering_ ,’ she remembered, ’ _Just like how Dick would quote Yoda. Fear, anger, hate, then suffering._ ’ Suffice it to say, she’d been stuck switching between the second and third phase for the better part of the week.

She took another careful look around the room. The same apartment she’d accidentally been summoned into all those years ago, that same living room where she had quietly napped on that  _same damn couch_  as a child. Unsuspecting of the betrayal that would occur.

But she’d given herself enough time to wallow in that anger, worked through as many stages of shock, disbelief and grief as she could with Cass as a sounding board, and her siblings to help distract her from all of that pain.

Now it was time to face that anger, and to move forward.

The couch had been moved around since that time, the coffee table temporarily taken out the living space to make room for the binding circle and runes to be placed on the floor. Plenty of space now for Zee and Raven both to enter unconsciousness, and for John to work around them if need be.

Raven almost wanted to pray to Azar that there would be no need, but it had been such a long time since she’d prayed to any deity over something so perilous.

She wasn’t sure they  _deserved_  to have that prayer heard in the first place.

“So what  _exactly_  are we doing again?” Raven asked, pinching the bride of her nose to relieve the growing headache she could feel coming. “Just to walk me through this one last time  _before_  I go under.”

“We both take the drug, slip into a shared trance with a focus on gaining access to  _your_  subconscious, and try to peel back the layers to find where we buried your memories-”

“Because they’re not  _gone-gone_ , just  _suppressed_. Right,” the empath nodded. She was still not comforted by what this could bring, and all of the uncertainty by what they’d find in her mindscape. 

Especially given that she hadn’t visited it in such a long time. Not since the Titans, and a disastrous episode with that damn mirror of hers and the teammates who hadn’t learned to respect boundaries yet.

“That’s enough idle chit-chat.” John brought the last of his equipment and failsafes from the other room, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Time to get this show on the road, eh?”

…

The sorceress had been only mildly surprised to awake in the apartment after slipping under. Everything seemed to be put back into place, just as it had been those first few weeks that Raven had been a guest in John’s apartment.

From that time  _before_  they both got attached to the little demon.

A quick glance to the window, however, did not reveal the sprawling city of New York, but rather many disjointed locations, hovering almost in their own spheres of existence, manifesting and then dissolving, then appearing once more in an ever changing landscape.

No real sense of direction, but rather one of arbitrary rules that could be dissolved with a single thought.

And for yet another moment in Zatanna’s life, she felt utterly helpless to this predicament she’d brought on. A reminder that she wasn’t the one in control in this world, no matter how she’d try to prepare or protect herself. This was an environment where Raven’s thoughts ran free, and a demon normally kept well under wraps, could be allowed room to roam.

She shut the blinds on the world beyond, and set her sights on the apartment she was standing in now. No use worrying herself into an existential crisis in a mind that wasn’t her own.

The kitchen appeared to be mostly in tact. She checked John’s room, everything appearing relatively normal there as well. The hall, the bathroom, even the inside the damn cabinets were left intact, despite the many times she remembered Raven accidentally making portals of them as a child. They all seemed such perfect opportunities for an altered sense of reality. Yet each remained oddly mundane.

She’d checked on Raven’s room last, the same room that had been converted from the informal library John had set up for himself and his…  _practice_.

Only instead of finding Raven’s twin bed littered with books and walls filled with superhero and band posters alike, she’d been greeted by her daughter’s other room. A considerably larger space, with a queen surrounded by bookshelves, those same shelves filled to the brim with artifacts and tomes alike.

Her room at Titan’s Tower, of course. (Now  _here_  was something  _odd_  that Zee had been expecting!) And finally, there was Raven herself, sitting upon that bed, practically swallowed by it.

Zatanna had almost forgotten how small the girl had been.

She took a moment, watching as the girl flipped through a book, eyes eagerly scanning the pages as she flicked her foot in the air behind her. She turned over in the bed, onto her back after turning another page. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, an unconscious reaction to what she was reading.

“Blackbird?” Zee finally called out, and the girl on the bed spun around to face her mother.

Only in that movement, her eyes turned into pure light.

“Raven? Is that you? Are you okay?” the sorceress slowly started approaching the girl, feeling a familiar echo around her aura. She couldn’t be sure that this was her daughter. But she couldn’t be positive that it  _wasn’t_  either.

The girl seemed to stare beyond her, non-responsive to any of her questions or her shuffling as she inched closer. Another precarious choice lay ahead now. And Zatanna couldn’t be sure what her next move would be.

The easiest decision came the quickest, however.

“ _Laever ruoy eurt mrof_!” she commanded the girl, “ _Wohs flesruoy_!”

She instantly regretted the spell.


	4. Chapter 4

_The easiest decision came the quickest, however._

_“Laever ruoy eurt mrof!” she commanded the girl, “Wohs flesruoy!”  
_

_She instantly regretted the spell._

* * *

Zatanna watched as her daughter’s face began to crack around her eyes, revealing more and more shining white light underneath. She tried to brace herself as more and more of the girl peeled away, sliver by painstaking sliver, until eventually the creature’s true form sat in front of her. Its body was simple, a two dimensional being in a three dimensional world. An unnatural consciousness in a natural form, a natural life in an unnatural memory. 

It was unsettling, to say the least. 

This thing certainly  _felt_ like Raven; the hesitant pulse of her tightly controlled aura against the magician’s own, the sickly sweet, spicy hum of demonic energy that yearned to be  _good_ , that familiar, familial presence of her daughter. 

Because despite its unsettling form this… thing was Raven. Just not  _her_ Raven.

As if pleased that she’d figured out its identity, the being raised its face (well, the space where a face would be if it  _had_ one). Bare of all color besides the small crimson pyrope in its forehead, the muted, white light seemed to suck everything in, all the brightness and all the darkness from the room.

She silently observed the being, constrained into the shape of Raven’s younger form, pulsing and cracking at the joints with each unnecessary breath. After a moment, it held out a hand to the magician. Zee paused and, after another few seconds, the being waggled its fingers. The color seemed to crinkle around the digits and this not-Raven tilted its head again. 

It’s voice sounded in her head, “Wisdom says you shouldn’t.” 

Zatanna wearily touched the tip of the being’s fingers, “What does  _Raven_ say?”

The being hesitated, sliding until their fingers were crudely intertwined, “She wants to remember what you took away.”  

Zatanna nodded, her lips straightening in a tight line, “I’m ready.”

The being nodded and its jewel glowed crimson, its fingers squeezing once. A pause as its body gleamed, seeping into the room before Zee’s vision went white. 

–

Cobalt eyes opened to what appeared to be a mosque. But no, the high arched ceiling and tapestries that lined the walls were alien to any current earth religion. Unfamiliar plants grew all along the walls and doves roosted in the wide window sills. Scrolls and texts were neatly stacked to the side, obviously well worn. 

The door opened behind her and Zatanna spun around. The five year old’s footsteps were light as she quietly snuck into the room. Raven’s gait faltered as she noticed the magician but she didn’t linger for long. Instead, she carefully dipped an incense stick into one of the last of the still burning candles’ fire and began to trek around the room, relighting all the candles and incense that she could reach. 

Zee noted that she didn’t fly, not even levitating an inch to alleviate her straining as she stretched up on her toes to light the tallest candles. Finally, when the last wick was ablaze, the demoness went to the center of the room and knelt down. Careful not to sit on her cloak, Zatanna sat next to her daughter, surprised when the doors opened again and a figure approached. 

Cloaked in pure white, the woman lifted her hands up to let her hood fall from her face. Her fingers were covered in gold rings, engraved with the same crimson markings that once marred Raven’s skin. Zee closed her mouth before she could gape, taking note of the warm, tired lines that accentuated the matriarch’s face. 

The child bowed her head in greeting, “Morning, Azar.”

Azar smiled down at her, “Morning, Raven.”

She tucked her cloak up underneath her as she settled down, crossing her hands over her lap. She took a deep breath and flexed her fingers. The girl perked up as the woman spoke, “No formal lessons today. I’ve been meditating on those… dreams, you said you’ve been having?”

Raven nodded, the ends of her hair brushing near her chin, “They  _feel_ like visions, but I only get them when I’m asleep. I don’t know why.”

Azar ran her tongue over her teeth, contemplating. She let her shoulders hunch as she leaned down to look at the demoness eye to eye. “Raven,” she sighed the girl’s name, a tinge of worry in the undercurrent of her voice, “Memories and emotions are intimately tied. I know that you’ve absolutely excelled in restraining yourself, and I’m proud of you for that.” The girl kept her face stoic, but Zee knew she was fighting back a smile as the matriarch continued, “But it seems that your emotions are running free when you’re unconscious. Perhaps even connecting to the auras of others. On Azarath or otherwise.” 

Her eyes seemed to waver for a split second, the memory acknowledging the magician’s presence. Paying little mind to the fact, Azar rubbed her thumbs over the gold bands that graced her middle fingers, “Remember, Raven. The power of emotional projection comes with many struggles, and you need to learn how to hold back, how to hone your powers so you’re holding back even when you’re not aware of the fact, lest someone accidentally gets hurt.”

The girl tilted her head, her brows scrunching in thought, “Control beyond meditation?”

The woman nodded, tracing the ring’s markings with her thumbnail. After a beat, “Perhaps we’ll try some emotional practices with the acolytes. The majority of your training so far has been preventative and restrictive. If you’re truly connecting, let alone projecting while unconscious, then we must work on reactive methods as well.”

Two sets of sapphire eyes narrowed, one darkening to indigo, “Reactive?”

Azar cleared her throat, “I believe these visions are related to your soul self, a new, different manifestation your aura perhaps… clinging to the emotions of others. If we can get your soul self to understand when its in a place that it shouldn’t be, then perhaps these dreams, these visions will stop.”

Azar’s lips twitched in what could be a knowing smile, “Sometimes knowing one’s true place is a complicated endeavor, Raven. And I know how hard you’re trying, but I don’t think I can stress enough how important it is that you remember that.” An unnatural pause as her eyes wavered to the magician again, “We all must know when not to cross the boundaries that lie between people, you know.”

Zee fought the urge to roll her eyes even as relief flowed through her. Raven, wherever she actually was, still felt the need to guilt her over her past choices. Necessary, although now the mother was wondering just how much of her first education she  _really_ remembered. 

Azar stood, holding her palm out so the girl didn’t follow her lead. “Stay, meditate for at least a quarter hour. Refresh your understanding of some of the texts if you must,” The matriarch tilted her chin towards the scrolls, “And I’ll return in an hour or so with some acolytes and we’ll practice with emotional reactions, okay?” 

Raven nodded and the woman turned to leave. Azar seemed to fade away out of the memory as the child settled down, cupping her hands and centering her breath. Zee fought the urge to look away as nostalgia drowned her at the sight: the short bob, not yet uneven from her time in Hell, the bright blue eyes that shone like lapis, the nervous little way one ear perked up when her brows scrunched in concentration. She was so young. Not even half a year before Constantine first summoned her. 

But still, now that the two were alone, the magician allowed her mind to race, focusing on one thread in particular: why was this memory so far back? She and John figured they’d retrace their daughter’s memories year by year, from her present self to the days whose memories Zee had altered. Jumping from her room in the Tower to Azarath made no sense whatsoever. 

As if hearing her thoughts, the girl announced to the room, “I’m truly happy here.” Raven lazily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not bothering to open her eyes, “I was just as happy back in my other room too.” 

Despite knowing that she needed to tread lightly, Zee couldn’t help but blurt out, “And you weren’t when you were with us?” The girl’s eyes opened and her mother felt another question bubble out of her, “Was it because of the fighting?”

Raven blinked but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to her mother, as if finally, consciously noticing her presence. In doing so, the girl seemed to recognize how flimsy the balance that the magician had in this reality was, “It’s easier when you  _belong_ , isn’t it?”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment; suddenly, the memory around them wobbled and smoke lazily circled around them. Zatanna shot up to her feet but Raven stayed seated, “Nothing’s going to happen yet.” The little girl was unperturbed by the mist and resituated herself until her legs were crossed.

The magician eyed the smoke warily, but nothing seemed particularly dangerous or out of place so far. Zatanna cleared her throat, “Yeah?”

“Of course, you haven’t been here too long, anyway,” She timidly sniffed the air and Zee followed suit, recognizing the scent of lavender and lemongrass. The mother furrowed her brows, placing it as the very same scent that flooded Constantine’s apartment when he’d first summoned the girl. It had lingered for days, outlasting even the smoky musk of hellfire until the girl got adjusted to Earth.

Zee let her shoulders sag as the cause came to her, “Do you only smell this when you aren’t comfortable?”

Raven blinked, her brows furrowing a tinge as she considered the magician’s emotions, “… Yeah. But it’s just because you aren’t supposed to be here.” She leaned back an inch as Zatanna crouched down so they were face to face, the woman trying to keep her face and her emotions as calm as possible. 

“Raven,” She lowered down until she sat criss-cross, mirroring her daughter, “You and I are trying to find your old memories.” Zee bit her lip, “Well, an older version of you. I… you  _are_ aware that this isn’t the current reality, right?”

The girl nodded, “I know. But you’re  _here_ , your Raven is somewhere else.” 

Zee nodded and held out her hand. Just as the being had done, Raven languidly let their fingers touch. The five year old’s face stayed blank as the magician asked, “Could you show me where my Raven is?”

Indigo eyes shut and she sighed. The pyrope in her brow gleamed as the girl stood, the light flashing in Zatanna’s eyes as she scrambled up as well. Raven reached up and held her future mother’s hand, leading them towards one of the windows. 

Small hands pushed the script-laden curtains aside, letting in the bright light. Barely holding back her gasp, Zee gaped at the sight.

Not quite a city, not quite a garden. The lingering smoke of incense hung around the buildings and yet the air was clear, the sun’s rays reflecting off the glass. If Zee squinted, she could pinpoint the white robes as the Azarathians went about their day, doing who knows what. If she didn’t, she was hit with the sight of green  _everywhere_ , from the tall grasses along the utopia’s edge to the flowers’ stems that lined the walkways to the vines that hung down from the masses of flying earth. Although, those masses weren’t  _earth_ , exactly; no, the magic that wove its way through the dimension was too thoroughly interconnected to be called anything but Azarathian.  

The memory pulsed, as if combining who knows how many scenes that Raven had lived through. The magician took in a deep breath, only able to think of one thing: Azarath was… awesome. 

Zee winced, trying to think of another word, one that didn’t hold such a casual meaning; gorgeous, breathtaking, stunning, grand perhaps…

“Awesome fits better.”

The woman looked down at the girl, a small smile curling her lips. She ignored the fact that Raven outright responded to her thoughts, “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” The girl pushed her hair out of her face and peered out at her home, “It’s like when you first look at the destruction after a tornado destroyed your neighborhood or when a whale breaches next to you when you’re so far out in the ocean that you can’t see any land for miles.”

A short laugh bubbled out of the demoness, “Or remember when we were looking for that possessed rock climber in the Grand Canyon that one time!” Zee gaped at her; that hadn’t happened until just past Raven’s ninth birthday, right before yet another break between her and John.  _How had she_ – Zatanna shook her head as the answer immediately came to her; this was Raven’s mind, of course it would be interconnected. The girl’s bright eyes were large, eerily intelligent of memories that’d yet to occur and yet had happened all too long ago.

The Azarathian lazily touched the window sill with her fingertips, “Remember how afterwards I made a disc and we all flew overhead to looked down? No matter how far out we looked we couldn’t see the bottom. Just jutting sandstone and rocks.”

“Like being in the eye of a hurricane,” Zee murmured. The girl nodded, “Or realizing that you’ve fallen for the chance to be a dangerous half-demon’s parents.” 

Raven sighed, the movement making her cloak flutter in the air, “ _That_ is awesome. Seeing a sight, a person, an experience so ethereal that it stops you in time.”  

She looked out to the view again, blinking blankly at the plethora of flora that surrounded and interspersed the utopia. Zee suppressed a jump when the girl squeezed her hand. She blinked once more then turned to her mind’s intruder. The little demoness spoke again, her voice colder, devoid of nearly all emotion, “As awesome as it can be here, just make sure you aren’t stopped for too long.”

Zatanna shuddered at the warning and let go of the memory of her daughter’s hand. Raven didn’t stop her, blankly turning her head back and resuming her staring out at her first home. 

Zee’s hand touched the doorknob and she heard the girl sigh, “Though I  _do_ wish you wouldn’t go.” 

The magician’s eyes shut, “I need you to know what’s happened, Blackbird.” 

She inched the door open, noting a familiar bust of an unevenly mustachioed man. One that Raven always pointed out when they travelled the hallway that led to the illustrious library of Wayne Manor.

“Okay, but I’m not Blackbird, not yet.” 

Zee took a hesitant step into the hallway, keeping her hand on the door frame. The bust turned its head and blinked at the woman. It’s marble chin tilted towards the east, where the Manor’s library was. The ends of its mustache twitched as it’s mouth tried to open. Muted, white light lazily creaked out of sculpted lips, “Better hurry, don’t wanna get stopped.” 

A familiar voice; not a man’s voice, but Raven’s. Older than the memory behind her but far too young for her actual age. Interconnected, no consecutive age range in her memories, ranging with how comfortable she was at the time; Zee took a deep breath, she  _had_ to remember that, lest she get  _stopped_. 

For now, all she could do was murmur, “I know, Sweetheart.”

The tiles in the hallway seemed to stretch on and on, fading into nothingness and only lit up by the light that shined from the open door. Zatanna glanced over her shoulder at the child’s cloaked back, softly nodded once and shut the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

As the door shut softly behind her, the hall seemed to light anew with dim glows from each lantern adorned throughout.

Zatanna quirked her head as she finally picked up on soft notes coming from much further down the passageway. A string quartet in the East Hall, playing for one of countless galas that Bruce had invited them to over the years. Zee had lost track of how many Raven had attended by now, but knowing her daughter, it'd been a great many more than even Bruce's own children had partaken in. And maybe even a few more than he had been able to attend for himself.

Despite her many protests, Raven enjoyed, at the very least, the excuse to snoop around the Bat's roost. Which was likely to be one of the memories this passageway had to be leading to. She'd made no secret of her love for the Wayne family's book collection. And Bruce was a gracious enough family friend to allow her access to it as she needed.

The sorceress continued down the hallway, head held high and shoulders squared. Eyes from the portraits of Wayne ancestors seemed to trail after her every move as she briskly walked. But with each passing portrait and door, the magician began noticing subtle changes to the hall as she turned the corner to follow the once familiar path to the library.

Because down this particular hallway, instead of historic landscapes of Gotham City or portraits of Wayne's forefathers, each painting had been replaced by obscured, surrealist scenes. Despite the demoness' warning from the bust earlier ringing in her ears, Zatanna found herself stopping in front of more than a few, waiting for each one to reveal it's scene on display. As they came into focus, they played like a silent film upon the canvas, rewound and looped, over and over.

One developed oh-so-slowly into a snapshot from the sightseeing vacation Zee had taken a very young Raven on in LA, how a seagull had snuck past them both to steal a golden fry. Zatanna found herself smiling softly at the captured surprise on both of their faces. It melted away in turn to major moments from that day, into their walk on the boulevard, then to Raven's first time swimming in the pacific, and even an unfortunate moment when paparazzi had finally recognized the magician and nearly ruined their day out together.

Another portrait, of her infamous road trip with Harley and Ivy, at a motel room with hair brushes in each of their hands, with the free ones waving or high-fiving in the air to an unheard beat. Zee always regretted the fight they had had just beforehand, but was grateful to the rogues for keeping her daughter's spirits up. Though there'd been quite the misunderstanding when she'd initially caught up to them after four days of tracking their movements.

Each one she passed, another memory. Some seemed so close, like she could simply touch the canvas and fall right into the scene. But none had felt quite right.

No. None were to be touched. Not just yet. There would be time to come back to these ones later.

She took a much longer pause as a final landscaped one caught her attention, just before the library.

It was of Constantine's office and apartment in Gotham. His tiny ' _Charlie Brown'_ Christmas Tree, as Raven had nicknamed it, was sitting above a filing cabinet behind his desk. The man himself was sitting there, sobbing into a bottle of whiskey as Raven, a young teen in this portrait, rubbed soothing circles along his back.

Zatanna barely stopped her hand short of touching the canvas where John's tear-stained cheek lay, curiosity nearly getting the better of her instincts.

Now was  _not_  the time to investigate that memory, either. The magician promised herself, with due time, she could satisfy that curiosity. If not here in Raven's mind, certainly when she'd regained consciousness outside of it.

She pulled herself out of that reverie now, as she felt an overwhelming pull into the library itself. Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end as she made contact with the door's handle.

With a steadying breath, Zatanna pushed the doors open and snuck quietly into the memory playing out in the room before her.

"-even  _be_  a problem if he'd really stop and  _think_  about-"

"Jason, what you're suggesting is still, objectively, wrong," the empath argued back against her long time friend. Zatanna watched as Raven all but lounged on the couch, the memory's eyes flitted briefly to register the sorceress' presence before she continued. Just like before. An awareness of the sorceress' intrusive presence in these spaces. A subtle acknowledgement as she stuck to the script of the memory.

"Killing another person  _will_  damn your soul, no matter how repugnant of a so-called human being they might be," Raven continued, "And killing  _a lot_  of killers isn't going to balance things out either, no matter how right some philosophers might have you believe it could be."

They both seemed still so small to the magician here. Likely only thirteen or fourteen, judging from the familiarity they carried themselves with. Only a year or two off from when the boy would be meeting such an unfortunate end...

She felt a cold shift in the air at the thought. And what should have been a well-lit room seemed to darken the slightest bit as their conversation went on.

"But that's what we have  _purgatory_  for right? One last  _Ave Maria_  and possibility for redemption?"

The girl shifted in her chair, sitting up straighter and narrowing her eyes at the boy.

Even as young teens, Zatanna had almost forgotten how the pair had seemed wise beyond their years. Certainly a step above their peers, and yet willing to reel the conversation back in just enough for their own sakes.

Zee had thought they'd prided themselves in being invincible, immune and above such tragedies as what was to come.

Once again, the room seemed to darken. The temperature dropping from a cool atmosphere to a more icy chill. And finally, Zatanna began to feel a familiar weight in her chest, that dull ache of longing and loss.

And finally things began to click into place for the magician.

"That puts a lot of pressure on God being merciful enough to provide such an easy out," Raven said icily, "Don't you think my dad would've planned for something like that by now, damned as he is?"

"Yeah, but Constantine wasn't ever an alter boy like I was-"

"Yeah,  _for a month_ , Jay-"

"Still counts-"

Even in the midst of their lighthearted banter, Zatanna felt her eyes pricking with tears. What should have been a light memory, now forever tinged by loss.

Even with Jason back, there was never a way to fully restore this memory to what it had been before.

A knock at the door behind her finally broke the two up from their bickering, and she moved out of the way in time for Dick to nudge his head in the door.

"Five minutes till B's speech, Jay. Alfred's gonna have a conniption if either of us misses it."

"Be there," the boy sighed, rolling out of his seat and joining his brother at the door. He turned when Raven hadn't made a move from her own chair. "You comin'?"

"Gonna browse. I'll catch up in a minute."

As soon as the boys left, the memory, the shadow of Raven, turned her full attention on the magician's intrusive presence.

"You took your time getting here," she accused as she stood from her chair, "Find something interesting in the hall?"

How could Zatanna forget? That wonderful attitude and angst that came with the teenage mind. Suddenly the chill in the room didn't seem so cold compared to how flush she was already becoming. But now certainly wasn't the time to let one's emotions cloud what needed to be done.

"I take it, I'm closer to where Raven really is, but I'm not quite there... Am I?"

"Survey says-" the demoness pulled at the copy of Robin Hood on the shelf, and the bookcases swung open to reveal another passage behind her. What traditionally should have led to the Batcave, now opened up to a hall she hadn't been expecting.

It was Shadowcrest. The Zatara family mansion.

"You'd be right. Though I can't promise you'll like what you find down there. Or that she'd let you see her just yet..."

The magician paused before the teen, keeping a watchful eye on the threshold before her, as the library itself seemed to shake for a moment.

It all felt so surreal, passing through these places like a maze in Raven's subconscious. And being so limited in time...

"You'll be able to linger when you've caught up to her," the memory promised quietly, "There's a lot that I wanted to talk with you about... So much she wanted- wants to tell you about this memory but-"

Zatanna felt her heart clench in her chest again, but now she couldn't tell if the pain came from how this memory, this shadow of Raven must have felt. Or if it came from the pain of knowing the girl felt she couldn't confide in her.

All these years, and even with all of the times that she had offered a listening ear. When had things gone so wrong, that her daughter felt she couldn't come to her with these moments and these feelings?

The magician hesitantly reached for the teen's shoulders, but she backed away too quickly.

"Blackb- ... Raven, if there was something I said that-" She paused as the empath's eyes widened, and she followed the girl's gaze to where it trailed at the end of the library.

Books began slowly floating off of the shelves, which in turn were dissolving into light. What had been a nighttime sky outside the window was now illuminated as if an atomic bomb had gone off over Gotham itself. The chill was gone completely from the air around them now, as searing heat poured in from nearly all sides.

All except the passageway behind them now, empath and magician both.

"You need to go.  _Now!_ " she yelled, grabbing Zatanna by the shoulders and shoving her through the threshold, "Make things right! Get back those memories!"

The sorceress watched helplessly as the teen was engulfed in heat just as the door shut between them.

" _Nepo! Rood nepo won_!" she sobbed against it, banging her fists upon the wood as it held firm. "Raven,  _please_. I'm sorry." A more rational part of her mind was telling her that Raven was fine. They'd be reunited soon enough. And yet, something had her so fixated on this door.

This particular door. One she'd spent all too many days and nights giving commands to.

"Open the door.  _Nepo siht rood... esaelp.._." she whispered against the locks. The strangest sense of  _deja vu_  tickling her mind now.

She was all too focused on going back to that other memory. To save a version of Raven that had already been lost, and was of no use to her now.

Taking a calming breath and wiping the tears from her eyes, Zatanna centered herself before repeating the command.

This was the door to the room she'd set aside for her daughter at Shadowcrest. When she'd fully, and officially adopted the girl into her family. The one she'd given her none too soon before their first show together.

She smiled now, recalling all the times she'd threatened to take away this very same damn door when Raven had counter-enchanted it against Zee's speech to keep it from opening on her commands.

Teenagers and their want of privacy. She knew it all too well, and thought she'd given Raven plenty of it.

Especially given how quickly she'd learned the exact magic words to open the door.

Never something as simple as a backwards 'abracadabra' or 'open sesame'.

No, much kinder, much better magic words were needed.

And now, with only finding Raven, the real Raven, on her mind, Zatanna spoke that simple word.

" _Please_."

She reached for the handled, and was thankful when it clicked open, creaking slowly as she dared to hope this wild goose chase they'd been sent down would be that much closer to ending.

"Son of a  _bitch_ ," she cursed softly at the scene before her.


	6. Chapter 6

Staring into Raven's room at Shadowcrest, Zatanna stayed rooted to the spot. Her sapphire eyes focused on her daughter, older than the previous memory but far, far more distressed. The mother’s throat dried up as she noted the sundress that her daughter donned, the stripes practically infamous in their little family. 

And at the sight of that sugar-cookie colored dress, the magician felt true dread at the thought of where a memory would take her. 

Hearing the quiet sniffles, she forced herself to take a deep breath, in through the nostrils, out through her mouth. Zee felt as the lingering heat on her back intensified and took a step forward, shutting the door behind her. The room dimmed as the light ceased, lit only by the dull gloom peeking in from the rain-filled clouds outside. The mystic took a step forward, quickly lifting her foot back up as a board creaked. 

This version of her daughter didn’t seem to notice her intrusion. 

Instead, Raven softly tugged at her pockets and pulled out one of her handkerchiefs, a frayed cloth with carefully hand-stitched embroidery. She rubbed at her eyes and then replaced her fists with the fabric, sniffling as she hid her tears. Zatanna watched as her lips mouthed her mantra, the calming words eventually falling out in a near whisper, “Azarath. Mentrion. Zinthos.”

The magician reached out to put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, pulling back as Raven let out a shuddering breath right before they made contact. Zee licked her suddenly dry lips, silently admonishing herself for nearly disturbing the memory before it was ready. 

At the near interruption, Raven seemed to pause for a moment, tilting her head until her hair fell away from her ears. Her fingers dug even further into the handkerchief, pulling it taut over her eyes. Her chapped lips trembled and a choking breath forced its way out of her lungs, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

Zatanna furrowed her brows, her fingers digging into her pants. Certainly the memory wasn’t talking to her… 

Before the mother could let her thoughts run away, Raven roughly swiped at her eyes. Another breath heaved out of her, this time morphing into a sob as the teenager dropped the cloth and desperately hugged herself, “You shouldn’t be _here_!” Her voice cracked as it raised, “You haven’t even apologized for _this time_!”

Her indigo eyes were still squeezed impossibly tight but Zee felt the whirlwind of emotions from her daughter’s memory. Anger, resentment, worry, the tiniest flicker of fear, and pain. So, so much pain. 

Suddenly, so fast that Zatanna could almost swear she felt her own chest constrict at the emotional whiplash, Raven's eyes snapped open and she calmed down, her face abruptly reverting to the precariously held stoicism that Zee had walked in on. Shaking hands wiped at her ruddy cheeks and the demoness softly began her memory, noisily sniffling as the tiniest flicker of light made its presence on the wall that she faced. 

The very same wall that held a lipstick marked Wonder Woman poster, a permanent chip where her desk had scuffed the paint when she’d first decorated her rarely used room, and a printed snapshot of her parents, fast asleep on the couch and drooling in the least attractive of ways. 

Something in the sorceress’ chest twisted at the picture, taken by the empath herself all those years ago; she and Constantine had been so exhausted after the whole Arkham exorcism ordeal, they’d practically fallen asleep standing up. But despite her own fatigue Raven knew that Mom and Dad were back together at least for the night and she… she hadn’t wanted to miss any peace between them. 

Peace that seemed to be so _rare_ when Raven was a teenager. 

Peace that only happened after she and John had spent some time apart, with Raven switching between cities as they calmed down from whatever argument they had had.

Peace that couldn’t even make it past half of a family dinner. 

And as such, any hope of peace was nonexistent here. It was obvious in Raven’s tear-stained face and her shaky breathing, in how her trembling hands clasped over her biceps in a hug, in how her fingernails dug into her skin, and so painfully obvious in the slightly stained sundress she wore, wrinkled near the hem from when she had clutched at the fabric as she listened to her parents’ fight for the umpteenth time. 

Zee stayed crouched near the floor, watching as the demoness shakily stood and stumbled to her desk. The mother wearily followed her footsteps, peeking over her daughter’s shoulder as pale hands yanked open one of the drawers, pulling out an old journal. Exhausted, the teenager plopped down into her chair and rubbed at her eyes again, flipping to a yellowed sketch that had been taped onto the very last page. 

A wave of sorrow crashed over the room, heavy and intense as Raven tenderly ran her fingers over a hand-drawn sketch of Giovanni Zatara, the pads of her fingers tracing from the lines of his suit to his mustache. Zee took an involuntary step back as her daughter softly greeted the illustration, “Hey, again. Uh-- Grandpa?” 

The empath let out a humorless laugh, “Sorry, I forgot if we decided on Grandpa or not. But who knows,” Raven sat up and rested her elbows on the desk, every motion practically screaming of how _tired_ she was, “You could’ve been a Pop-pop type of guy, huh?” Her lips curled as she failed to contain a snicker, “That might’ve messed with Dad, though.”

Raven smiled sadly at her grandfather’s grin, running her thumb over the long-dried inkstrokes that made up his bowtie, the gray streaks in his hair, the top hat that he proudly held in his hand, the blots of stars that made up the stage behind him. She bit her lip and sighed, “Sorry that I never come with good news.” 

The picture was unaffected by her words and that seemed to open the floodgates. “They’ve been fighting,” Raven murmured.

Another chuckle, the sound somehow darkening the room and the specks of light that grew on its edges, “ _Again_.” Zatanna wrung her hands together guiltily as her daughter practically whispered out, “I--I just don’t _know_ anymore, Grandpa. I don’t even know what started this one!”

Unfortunately, memory or not Giovanni’s likeness did not speak; no condolences or advice were offered and the mother stubbornly blinked away the growing glassiness of her eyes. In the silence filled only with Raven’s trembling huffs, Zee allowed herself to wonder just _where_ Raven had gotten a portrait of the mystic. 

A bigger part of her wondered just how often her daughter had apparently visited Shadowcrest, just how many times she had confessed her worries to her only private connection to her grandfather, and just how _long_ she had been internalizing her parents’ fighting. 

As if on cue (so much so that Zatanna once again worried about how aware these memories were of her thoughts, let alone experiences that had already happened in the future) the empath spoke again, “Do you…” She paused and wet her lips, her fingers drumming against her arm as she brought the portrait up to eye level, “Do you think it’s me?” 

Zee didn’t touch her daughter but leaned in closer, “Raven…”

The memory didn’t respond to her and kept going, “I _know_ that a lot of their fights aren’t explicitly _because_ of me, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder, Grandpa.”

Sapphire eyes slid shut and she let her head fall back onto the chair. Giovanni’s drawn eyes were somehow curious and she rambled, “You and Mom never got a chance to really know each other, I know… But do you think she ever,” Another pause as the teenager cleared her throat, letting words she had had fleeting thoughts about (but never, _never_ allowed herself to even muse over) fall off her lips, “Do you think she ever regrets adopting me?” 

A troublingly large splotch of light obliterated where half of the bed lay. Zatanna ignored the danger, wondering if she should interrupt the memory before it ended, lest her own heart be broken beyond repair. 

“Do you think Dad does… at least sometimes?” 

Too late. 

Zatanna all but dropped onto one of the chair’s arms, her cheek resting on the memory’s temple. She touched Raven’s cheeks and wrapped her daughter in a hug the best she could, but the memory continued on, amending to her grandfather, “I… I don’t _really_ think it’s true but sometimes with all the fighting…” 

She sighed, the heavy breath making her shoulders slump, “It’s almost as if they’re staying together for _me_. Like… they _need_ a proper time away but they don’t feel comfortable taking their hiatuses as long as I’m in the picture.” 

The magician’s heart was practically dust at the passiveness that shrouded her daughter. No snarkiness of teenage years, no weariness of the weight she carried by being a superhero _and_ a daughter split in two, no anger at the fact that she couldn’t confide in her parents about her insecurities as their daughter. 

Just a lethargic acceptance of this particular aspect of her life, an emptiness that was extremely worrisome for a human, let alone an empath.

Hoping that the memory would address her, Zee admitted, “It’s not true, but I guess it _does_ seem like that sometimes, doesn’t it?” Raven said nothing, even as her mother ran a hand through her hair, looking up at the room around them. When her daughter stayed silent she continued, “I thought you went to see Cass after this fight.”

“You like my outfit? I was gonna meet Cass after dinner but that plan’s shot,” Raven’s lips curled into a broken little smile as she ran her thumbs over her dress’ hem, tilting the journal so the portrait could take in her tear-stained ensemble. “Although, she probably would appreciate this dress better than you, Grandpa. She loves seeing me in spring colors.”

Zatanna’s fingertips laid on the empath’s stripe-covered shoulders, “I don’t understand; why won’t you talk to me? The other Ravens did.” Her sapphire eyes narrowed slightly as her daughter continued on, so casually that she wasn't certain the memory was improvising or of it had actually happened.

“I’ve told you about Cass, right? She’s great, Grandpa. I wish I could’ve introduced you two.” Raven licked her lips, her words hesitant, “She’s… she’s been talking to me, actually. About how I shouldn’t talk to you just yet.” Another pause and the teenager leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes as her mother’s cheek pressed against her own, “Not when you’re _this_ close to the truth.”

Before the mystic could interrupt, Raven pivoted from the subject, “But, you know, Dad told me the truth a lot. When he was blackout drunk and it was just me and him.” She slowly bent the corner of Giovanni’s portrait, smoothing the paper half a second later. 

Bending, smoothing. Bending, smoothing. Bend it again then smooth it over. Causing the mess and then having to fix it. Over and over and over again.

Her indigo gaze stayed fixed just under the Wonder Woman poster, not three inches from where a spot of light was slowly growing in size. “He talked in his sleep sometimes,” The demoness laughed, the sound terribly forced. More and more light ate away at the floorboards behind them and she dipped her pinky into one blinding splotch that consumed the drawer’s knob, uncaring as it burned her skin, “I didn’t like listening to him.” 

No, burning wasn’t an adequate explanation. Not when the light seemed to pull the girl’s cells apart in near geometric blocks, as small as a clump of dirt. It reminded Zatanna of how characters disintegrated in superhero movies, nowhere near as real as the living memory that she now interacted with. 

Uncaring of how the light sluggishly crawled up her finger and onto her hand, Raven mused to the picture, “It doesn’t count as eavesdropping if I’m just making sure my dad doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning, right?”

The sketch of Giovanni Zatara moved, its eyes crumbling white as the corners started to succumb to the blinding light. Raven smiled. 

Zee pressed closer to her daughter’s shoulder as she turned to the opposite wall, her stomach dropping as the light completely consumed the other half of the room. Finally, as if aware of the magician’s growing concern, Raven turned to her mother. Her indigo eyes were shiny yet dull, containing a million emotions, accusing and pleading and guilty all at once. 

Her chin tilted to the window and the untainted clouds that lingered beyond it. “That light’s already taken the door. The window’ll have do.”

She turned her attention back to her now-obliterated pinky and that white splotch of light, uncaring as more and more light crept up her arm and around the room. Zatanna rushed to the window, her steps hesitant and completely stopping as her daughter spoke to her back, “Even though it’s never happened, I always rationalized it to myself, you know?” 

The memory cleared her throat, “That all the smoking and drinking would catch up to him before a broken heart could.” Raven laughed, the sound flat and devoid of all humor as she added, “You’re already so stable… and I figured if _Dad_ could deal with all this fighting and _lying_ then I could too.”

Zatanna ran her tongue over her teeth, “Your father’s strong, Blackbird.” She glanced over her shoulder at the teenager, worriedly noting how close the light was getting, even if its route was abnormally slow compared to before, “So are you.”

“Yeah, well,” Her eyes met Zatanna’s again, a spark of life that reminded the magician that despite all of this she was getting close, “You know I'm going to fix _my_ family. You need to fix yours.” 

Zee nodded and climbed onto the windowsill, blinking down at the endless expanse of dark rain clouds. Raven’s room at Shadowcrest wasn’t too high up, but this memory made Rapunzel’s view seem like child’s play. She couldn’t even pinpoint exactly _where_ the clouds morphed from rainy gray to pure darkness. Her sapphire eyes flicked to her daughter then she immediately moved her face away, her mind racing as she immediately tried to forget the image of Raven slowly being consumed by white light. 

Still, none of this made sense. Why was the light moving so slow? Did lingering, did having a conversation with her daughter _really_ speed up the memory’s timer that much? Maybe the heart-to-hearts would have to wait until she found the lost memories after all.

Or maybe Raven was telling her to just watch for once. 

But even if one of her ideas, even if _all_ those theories were true, just how long did this memory last? Surely not as long as Raven’s conversation with Jason, right? The knot in her stomach wretched as she noted the light creeping up from the brick foundation of Shadowcrest. Not as fast as in the library, but enough to cause alarm. _Especially_ with such an endless drop awaiting her.

Whether it was the panic that thoroughly spread through her chest or the thought of a past memory, this version of Raven decided to speak to her directly. Softly, even though she must have been burning from the light already, Raven (not the memory; _her_ Raven) said the words to spur the sorceress out of her overthinking and into action: 

“Please, Mom.”

Those words made that dark expanse beyond the clouds seemed familiar. Not true darkness, instead an inky shadow, the type that could come out from underneath a cloak in magic tendrils; something inherently dangerous, but nothing that would ever cause her harm. 

A blackness that could very well host four red eyes if it truly needed to. 

Her throat dry, Zee swallowed as Raven’s voice sounded in her head, “Fix this.” Sapphire eyes squeezed shut and the mystic let go of her grip on the ledge. Her daughter’s name on her lips, Zatanna took a deep breath and let herself fall.


	7. Chapter 7

She held her tongue, when her parents brought endless theories of how to best retrieve her lost memories. Of the different methods they used in a thousand different scenarios and a thousand different perspectives. No two minds, in their experience, ever thought completely alike. They made that abundantly clear, after all those times they'd recounted cautionary tales after many an adventurous one. And even with all of their experience and mentorship, she'd never been truly prepared for her first trip into someone else's mindscape.

It was a jarring experience, but not an altogether unwelcome one either. Especially after many trips of her own, mapping out her psyche, when she'd spent so much of her early childhood, placing emotions into boxes. Or, rather, giving them their own personas and naming them accordingly, giving them their own spaces to be buried in.

All of that. Only to have it undone within the year she'd come to know her new parents.

She'd been grateful for it, at first. Saying a literal goodbye to Curiosity and Anger had never been so satisfying. Nor saying one to Happiness or Bravery, so disheartening. Somehow, miraculously, with John and Zatanna both working with her as best they each knew how. They'd given her a whole new arsenal of tools, not just to keep her own personal demon at bay, but to occasionally embrace it. To use her gifts for more than what they were  _meant_  for.

It hadn't been until recently, that she began to realize the cost it was bought with it.

She knew there could be risk, with bringing back unpleasant memories.

But she had faced Hell, and lived to remember it, once before. There was no reason that she could find, that she couldn't face the memory of her very  _first_  unfortunate trip there.

So after slipping into that wonderful meditative state between consciousness and dreams, she was pleasantly surprised to land in one of her earliest memories. One that somehow predated what she was expecting them to find.

It wasn't flashy. It wasn't even all that important to her. But it was a memory that had stayed with her, unbidden. She tried to make her peace with it, and let the scene unfold before her eyes.

A small moment, spent wandering a courtyard in the Temple of Azar. Bushes and trees and gardens all around in rainbow blooms. An eternal spring that was intoxicating, even amongst the most stoic of acolytes.

She was probably only four years old. She saw her own stubby hands as they reached down to pick up a flower that had fallen off of one of the trees. It had two crumpled yellow petals, the rest left pristine.

She took a sniff in the air, became agitated by the pollen, and sneezed. A slight sound, but shocking enough to make an acolyte nearby jump. Which she'd found amusing enough to let out a giggle. This was, in turn, immediately reprimanded.

She couldn't quite make out Azar's words, though she remembered the cold tone almost too well to begin fabricating new words. The memory was bogged down by time and indifference. But she  _certainly_  remembered the emotion. Happiness turning so very quickly into fear and anger around her. And at the forefront in her own memory and feelings; shame.

"Enough of this," she growled lowly, throwing the flower out of her hands and squeezing her eyes shut tightly, "Show me what's missing. Let me see what  _she_  took away!"

When she opened her eyes, tear-filled and cold with sorrow, she found her still small body surrounded by warmth. A long forgotten, but in this memory, familial warmth. She looked up to see Arella, alive and well and behaving rather matronly as she brushed aside the hair in Raven's face and wiped her tears away from her cheeks.

She took in every detail of the mother she'd forgotten. The same sapphire eyes that she saw in the mirror most days, black hair that curled in soft ringlets around a warm, heart-shaped face. She was positively glowing with life and love. And though Raven could tell that this memory must have begun with an upset that had nothing to do with the woman that held her daughter so lovingly in her arms, she felt her heart tear anew, knowing now what she had lost.

Knowing now, that it was something that could never be fully replaced.

"But Azar never lets-" she began, partly following the memory's script. Mostly out of surprise, and a longing she still carried for her mother. Arella place a finger over Raven's lips, shushing her gently.

"It doesn't matter, my little Raven," she cooed as she held her daughter tighter, "One moment of indulgence. It is only weakness to deny your emotions completely. But it  _is_  important, for you, that they be denied from  _lingering_."

"I do not... understand," Raven said. Now at the mercy of the memory, she allowed herself get lost in it. The emotions as they went on, though, felt much less intense. Muddied and dim. She was becoming less and less a participant in the memory, even as she watched it unfold from her own perspective.

This was one of the  _somethings_  that had been missing.

She blinked her tears away, continuing, "Please. Will you-?" And upon opening them again, she found herself sitting in the sleeping chambers of the dimension she'd once called home. A bed, with one pillow and a light blanket, more of a meditation mat, really.

She was in the lotus position, back straightened after accidentally napping instead of going through her exercises like she was meant to. A dull numbness filled her, an apathetic concern. She was worrying for convention's sake, what it would mean to leave her exercises unfulfilled.

And then there was Azar's knock and her voice, requesting entrance.

Another scene. Another mundane moment.

She closed her eyes again.

Another memory that didn't need exploring.

"Take me somewhere else," she demanded, "Not just these flashes. Take me back to Mo-" she caught herself, torn between which mother she truly wanted to see again.

And knowing which one she  _needed_  right now, regardless of that want.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to concentrate. "Take me to her. Take me to Zatanna."

This scene before her, when they opened again, was one that would become more familiar and complete as time went on.

A tree inside of Zatanna's Gotham apartment, covered from top to bottom in tinsel and holly. A couple of gifts wrapped with enthusiasm and care, and a _little too much_  tape keeping them together. Hot chocolate and candy wrappers strewn along the coffee table as the pajama-clad trio laughed and the adults shared stories of Christmases past.

This was her first Christmas with John and Zee. She was giving one of her presents her undivided attention. She weighed them in hand, shook them, and even ran her fingers along seams or points for the oddly shaped ones. Anything to get a hint at what was waiting within.

And with all of that remembered wonder and excitement, she forgot that this was only a recap, a recollection.

She turned to face the adults, remembering how the two magicians both had been too excited to wait. After debating the merits of opening  _at least_   _one_  Christmas present on the Eve rather than the day itself, it'd taken only a second's deliberation before they had their answer. Zatanna handed her a new present that hadn't been waiting under the tree.

"This one might take some explaining," she began after encouraging the girl to tear into the bright red wrapping paper, "But we wanted your first gift to be... well... Something  _meaningful_." She reached for the Englishman's hand, gently squeezing it as Raven opened the box itself.

"Papers?" the six year old asked, her face scrunching in confusion. "What does...? C- Cert- Certif-" She stumbled uncertainly over the words, John and Zee waiting patiently as she read what she could. Of course, something tickled at her brain as she got lost in the flow of this memory. What she knew now, that the papers before her were different adoption forms and faked birth certificates. All done in triplicate and ready to be put through the appropriate channels to cover their bases.

"Glad to see you could get the bird  _hooked on phonics_ , Zee," John murmured appreciatively by her ear as he snuck a kiss onto the sorceress' cheek. The love between them made the empath giddy with optimism again, try as she might to quell the feeling.

"They feel...  _warm_ ," she noted after looking through them. "Like... they're really  _important_." That lingering heat of love and commitment. She could also read a tinge of fear and apprehension on the documents, although she hadn't had the words for those feelings back then.

She looked up to see Constantine smiling at the barely restrained note of hope in her voice, even as she stated it like an arbitrary fact. He glanced over to Zee, seeing she had a similar, though half-hidden, smile on her face.

"They're  _extremely_  important, li'l bird," he said, taking his hand from Zatanna's to wring them together as he leaned forward in his seat, "Because we've been talking it over, and we wanted you to know we've grown rather fond of you." He smiled even bigger as the girl felt her eyes grow wider, as if he were wondering if she already knew where this was going.

She had had enough of an idea, a kind of intuition, of course. But nothing could ever quite prepare her for what they were about to say.

Because they'd each grown  _more_  than fond of the girl over those few months previous. John would readily admit to falling head over heels, within those first few weeks of having her around, to anyone who asked. And Zatanna had fallen in similar line, though not without her own hesitations.

It'd taken time, and considerable research, to be sure that they could  _safely_  care for her. And that they could  _truly_  be what was best for the girl.

After all, she did have family here on Earth, though they would say years later that they hadn't felt comfortable with leaving her in their care. Especially given the  _attitudes_  expressed towards magic upon first meeting them. It was the kind of blissful ignorance that came from those who hadn't experienced the true tragedies that magic brought with it, first hand. The kind of attitude that benefitted a certain magician's audience attendance numbers, or kept the other's activities reasonably flying  _under_  the radar, but it certainly didn't leave any room for  _true_  belief.

Raven understood why they thought she simply wouldn't survive in this world, without a tangible connection to its magic. And it wasn't looking like any other sorcerers were in the market to adopt a demon.

Not without ulterior motives, in any case. Which really only left the  _obvious_  options.

"What we're trying to say here, Raven-" Zatanna chimed in, "-is that we'd love to be a family, if you'll have us. We can't promise we'll be perfect but...We'd  _love_  to be your parents. Would you... like us to be your new mom and dad?"

John reached his hand over for Zee's again as she bit her lip in anticipation. Carefully watching Raven's face as she glanced between theirs and the papers in her hands, they each held their breath as the girl's eyes started misting over.

And despite the tears welling up, she felt a giddiness that was nearly palpable in the air. This was something she had tried desperately to contain, and failed miserably.

"A... a whole new mom  _and_... dad?" she whispered, "You  _really_  mean it? You really... you really want me to  _stay_?"

"You've lasted this long haven't ya-" John started before feeling Zatanna's sharp elbow in his side. He laughed through the pain as he quickly amended, "As long as you need us, kid, we're here for you. And even when you  _don't_  think you'll need us. That's what parents are supposed to be for, innit?"

"Something like th-" Zee's words were choked off as Raven tackled her torso in a hug, and the occultist laughed at the surprise on her face before Raven just as quickly went to hug his torso in turn.

"Thank you, thank you," she mumbled into his stomach, "I've... never really had a dad or a mom like this... Do I..." She glanced up between them, eyes still impossibly wide. "What do I  _do_?"

"Same thing I'm asking m'self," the exorcist admitted under breath before speaking up, tousling the girl's hair as he spoke, "You just keep doing what you do best, luv. We'll figure out this family thing somewhere along the way. Now, I believe it's  _Mum's_  turn next, eh? Or mine? Which one will it be?"

He carefully pulled a playing card from his sleeve, laughing as the magician rolled her eyes and Raven gasped in wonder at his sleight of hand as it turned into a  _Season's Greetings_  card.

With this year's precedent set, they were certain to have a very  _interesting_  first Christmas together.

She picked up the papers in hand once more, running small fingers lightly over the ink as her new parents bantered and laughed. And as wonderful as this memory was, as much as she wanted to stay and relive opening each and every one of those presents and to be filled with the wonder of a myth that held more truth than any mystic could imagine. She knew it wouldn't do to linger in this memory.

Clutching the papers, she closed her eyes again in concentration.

The sounds of laughter and music faded, and she felt a presence on her periphery. Something that smelled of cinnamon and a musk that reminded her of the dust that settled along an unused stage. And then two voices, muffled and distorted. She focused on the more familiar one, hearing Zee's soft voice barely pushing through the black.

" _I need you to know what's happened, Blackbird_."

And there it was. A wonderful apprehension and crippling fear that overtook her very soul. Something was ripping her away from the lock she had on the magicians voice.

She remembered where the gap in memory began, and opened her eyes. That defining moment that would change her whole destiny irreparably.

She was back on Azarath as her eyes shot open. The floor to the temple was ripped apart as the ground below her quaked. As light itself shone in the oddest of places while darkness overtook the acolytes.

She lost her footing, reaching up for a hand to save her, any hand at all.

Only to be met with her own screams of terror, overwhelmed by the fear she felt around her.

And like usual, as the feelings started to overcome her and take control, she was pushed forward. Coughing and drying her eyes, she recognized Constantine's library around her, a space that would eventually be repurposed into her own room.

"No!" She yelled indignantly at him, fighting the script she knew she was meant to follow, "I'm ready to see it! Dammit, I have a right to know!"

"Easy there, luv," he took out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, and the man, the memory, leaned back into one of his armchairs as he continued, "You'll get to it in good time. But you've got unfinished business to attend to first."

"There's nothing that I haven't seen before except those memories. So where are they buried?" She reached her hand out, trying to draw on the powers that she knew wouldn't work in quite the same capacity as when she was conscious.

Shadows molded around Constantine's body at her whim, and as their tendrils began to curl around his form, he disappated into smoke alongside them.

"Think you already know what you need to do, luv, even if you won't outright say it," his voice laughed, echoing around her in the space as the walls slowly encroached on where she was sitting.

The binding circle that would've kept most demons contained, barely registered even half the hint of discomfort she'd felt when trapped inside of it so many years before. In her anger, she began both physically and telekinetically pulling the books off of their shelves, tearing the room apart as pages were ripped from spines and glass cases were smashed to the floor. A sadistic satisfaction filled her as she destroyed the room around her, even knowing that she'd want to rebuild the memory it was meant to contain.

But it was stained, never be allowed to be fully returned to its state from before, knowing what she knew now.

Like an old friend, she felt her soul-self linger at the edges of the room, flitting between doors and windows. Silent, but the meaning the behavior held was obvious to the empath. It was showing her the options she had, to move forward. Any of these opening providing a logical next step to take.

The choices she had were limited. To find Zatanna meant to face this anger head on, to confront the sorceress once more for the grief she'd caused.

But to explore another memory, to risk becoming trapped in nostalgia or in anger for a possible reward of finding another lost snippet.

She breathed in, her voice low as she calmed herself with the mantra that she could never forget, no matter the years passing. No, it wouldn't do to linger in this anger.

But for the reward of another moment with her mother. That made her decision all the easier.

She made her way to the window, now half it's size from all the shrinking, it would have been impossible to climb out of, had she been in an older body. Perched upon the ledge, she smiled to herself, knowing what her teammates and family would say about her namesake. She looked out, seeing inky, cold blackness all around instead of the New York alleyway that she expected.

The surrealism was comforting, she thought as she let go of the window's frame, closing her eyes to let herself fall into the next vision.


	8. Chapter 8

Raven sighed, her eyes closing as the wind rushed past her face. It was the perfect temperature; not cold at all, warm but not too warm. Like Azarath at any given time of the year or Gotham during the summer. The empath welcomed the brief reprieve that her fall gave her, her grin softening to a weak smile as she felt her body morph back to normal. 

She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to watch that blank expanse of her mind pass her by. But through that darkness light shined behind her closed lids and she opened her eyes, her face brightening at the plethora of memories around her, none larger than a small TV. 

The windows passed her by, each highlighting a vision of her and her mother: Arella tucking her into bed after a frustrating day where meditation just wasn’t good enough; Zatanna all but tackling her into a spinning hug after finally tracking Pam and Harley down from their impromptu roadtrip; her head in the lap of one mother, thin fingers running through her short bob; Gotham in the background as the other, bobby pins in the corner of her mouth, pulled her long hair into a French braid. 

Her hands outstretched, Raven sadly smiled as her fingertips brushed against the edges of the memories. They left little streaks but her mind wouldn’t allow her to linger. And each vision passed by all too quickly, static in time as the empath kept her steady descent. Constantine’s words rang in her head, about her _unfinished business_. 

But she had chosen; so where was Zatanna? 

Her mind held no answers as she continued her endless fall, only allowing the briefest of glimpses to her past. Arella, Zatanna, Arella, Zatanna. Mom, Mom, Mom. Azar and Constantine, Azarath and Gotham, the doves that Arella sung to in the early morning and the pigeons that hopped near her feet as Zatanna unwrapped her pre-show donut.

Raven sighed, frustrated. She’d accepted to leave that anger, she wanted to see her mother; where was she? 

The further Raven fell, the more the knot in her stomach twisted. Her sapphire eyes glanced around at the familiar darkness around her, the light from her memories causing spots in her vision. The empath rubbed at her eyes and then squinted, finally spotting something foreign travelling through her mind. 

It was a blackbird, its inky feathers tinged with navy as it glided down. There was no purposefulness to its glide; the creature was content in its fall towards its inevitable death, not even _attempting_ to flap its wings. And although she could have let it be, although she wanted to ignore the creature and figure out where she had to go next, something was _off_ about the bird and Raven rushed forward to help it. Hands outstretched, first her magic and then her body curled around the bird, firmly tucking it against her stomach. 

Her body occupied, her mind slowed their descent, cushioning their landing as the dark ground suddenly rushed up to them. A curse escaped her as they landed, finally feeling the full weight of the bird, but her magic kept both of them unharmed. 

Raven blinked, incredulous as the creature gleamed white and morphed into a body. She let it drop and scrambled back, her brows furrowing as Zatanna hastily stood. 

The magician looked wary as she glanced around, confused when no memory awaited her landing. She sucked in a hopeful breath at the sight of Raven, her heart fluttering as she recognized her daughter’s aura, “Blackbird?”

The young woman nodded, her fingers twitching in her fists as Zee rushed forward. “Oh!” She wrapped her daughter in a hug, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and squeezing her tightly, “It’s really you this time.”

Raven kept her face cool, still hesitant with her last decision ringing the back of her mind. Her hands came up to squeeze her mother once, her stomach twisting at the knowledge that Arella would have to wait.

She broke the hug and took a step away from the magician, looking around her mind. She noted the tiny blips of light high above them and sighed, thinking of Arella again, “We must be getting close.”

Zatanna bit the inside of her cheek, speaking to the elephant in the room, “Blackbird…”

When Raven didn’t answer, her bright eyes focused on those blots of light, the mother softly revealed, “I saw some of your memories.” 

“I know you did.”

A pause. The sound of Zatanna thickly swallowing at the undercurrent of animosity in her daughter’s voice. A deep breath as the magician took a step forward. 

Raven’s stare on the windows faltered, her stoic face nearly crumbling as her mother touched her shoulder. Her concern was all but palpable when they touched and the empath shifted out of her grasp. Still, Zatanna wasn’t to be deterred, “What did you see?”

“That isn’t important right now,” Finally, she dared to get a good look at the magician’s face. One that was just as maternal as Arella’s, if not more so. Eyes that bore the same color as her own, the same long black hair, the same affliction for magic; a reason people walking on the street automatically assumed they were actually related. Would people think the same if they saw her and Arella? Raven didn’t know for sure if they would. 

She also didn’t quite know how she felt about that just yet. But rather than let herself fall into another mess, she instead squared her shoulders, trying to be serious before the emotions consumed them, “We need to focus on finding the _lost_ memories, not lingering on the ones that were always there.”

Raven turned to walk and paused, one shoe in the air as the floor rippled. Her foot fell back down and the blackness they stood on morphed into an all-too-familiar image. The old but incredibly comfy couch that sat in the middle of Constantine’s apartment; the one Raven had slept in as a five-year old, unsure if she would be sent back to Hell or not; the very same couch that hosted many a movie night and hangover naps and heartbroken sob sessions; the couch that they knew Constantine currently leaned against, keeping watch as the two mystics searched throughout her mind.

The couch sported the very same throw blanket that she’d sat on her first hour on Earth, nibbling poptarts as her soon-to-be parents decided what to do with her. But it wasn’t daytime, nor was this young version of Raven awake. The little demoness was curled on her side, drooling onto one of the cushions as she slept, Constantine and Zee watching her from the bedroom door frame. 

An old lamp that had been broken long ago still sat on the counter and Raven sighed, bracing herself as the image of that nicotine-scented couch got a shade brighter. White light filled her vision and the mystic reached for her mother, her jaw setting as the memory cleared completely, as vivid as the night it occurred. 

\--

_Raven laid on the couch, the corner of her blanket clenched in her tiny fists. A cold sweat made her forehead clammy but she didn’t notice, so consumed in twisting back and forth, a mix of horror and fear crumpling her face. Her fingertips crackled with uncontained magic, fighting out against the demons that plagued her dreamscape._

_Not even ten feet beyond her, Constantine’s voice whispered out, “Are you sure about this, Zee?”_

_The_ crash! _of yet another piece of furniture flipping on its side, toppled by the demoness’ magic. Already, the lamp and the coffeemaker lay in pieces on the floor, joined by the curtains after another jolt of black magic and the girl’s sob of “No!”_

_The adults glanced at each other, both nervous and determined as a chair was flung against the wall. Twiddling the wand in her hand, Zatanna took a deep breath, “Go set the bed for her.” The magician aimed a confident half-smile the Brit’s way, “I’ll get her to the room and stop these terrors. Promise it’ll only calm her down, that’s all.”_

The ground below their feet quivered, furious at the lie.

_Zatanna whispered a quick protection spell around herself, dodging the flying furniture to the best of her ability. She paid no mind to the sound of Constantine cleaning his bed the best he could, instead focused on the distressed crease in between the girl's eyes._

_Although she had yet to truly trust this half-demon, yet alone to the extent that Constantine had already, Zee sighed and leaned down in front of the couch. She put a hand to the child’s head, damp with a cold sweat, and set about smoothing her uneven bangs back. When Raven continued to fuss, the magician stretched, kissing the girl’s forehead._

_She kept her breathing as calm as she could, paying no mind to the zaps of black magic that nipped at her. “Ehtaerb, Raven…” It took a few beats, but the girl did as she commanded, her chest heaving as her near-hyperventilation slowed. Zee, satisfied at how the demoness’ fists loosened in the blankets, rested her elbows on the couch._

Raven’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up as the couch dipped under her mother’s weight. Lit up only by the crescent moonlight, her pristine snow white robe completely out of place in Constantine’s apartment, Arella looked like a figure out of a daydream. The Gothamite slowly leaned down and ran her hand through the girl’s short hair, humming a melancholy lullaby, the sound throaty and scratchy in the darkness. 

“Oh, my Little Bird,” Soft and sad, Arella sounded as her memories portrayed her, warm and maternal and _loving_. Her face was tired as tears began to fall from her sapphire eyes and Raven’s welled up in response, her blurry vision watching as the tiniest of flickers of white light began to nip at her edges, desperately trying to work their way into this memory. 

The sight of those light splotches brought back her last broken recollections of Azarath; Raven thought of the leaping flames of fire, of her father’s form, of his howling laughter as the people of Azarath were turned to stone, their faces stuck in terror forever. Memories that she didn’t _truly_ remember, memories that she had been forced to forget. 

Through the girl’s tears, Raven watched as Arella’s face began to morph, sinking in some places and tightening in others. Her eyebrows got a tinge wider, her cheekbones a smidge less pronounced, her nose less angular and her lips fuller. The fingers in her hair grew a size larger, and her shoulders broadened under her cloak. The empath’s lower lip quivered as her mother, the one that everyone assumed was her real one (and really, would they be truly _wrong_?) stared down at her.

Zatanna tenderly ran a hand through Raven’s short hair, stopping just past her ears. Slow and steady, from the girl’s temple to the still-uneven ends of her bob as she shifted in her sleep, awake yet not, comfortably curled on her side as the tightest clutches of the nightmare ceased for just a second. This was wrong, this was right. 

Raven twitched as the magician continued to scratch at her scalp, stubbornly fighting against the surge of emotion. This memory was the strongest, the _realest_ of all the ones she had faced and, judging by the glassy sheen on Zatanna’s eyes, her mother would probably say the same. 

Her previous memory rattled in her head once more. That vision of Dad had laughed at her, goaded her to finish what she’d started. Finding her mother, but which one? 

She’d yet to feel _anger_ , but Raven was all too aware that Zatanna had taken over Arella’s presence yet again. _Zatanna_ had never donned the flowing white cloak, she never walked the grassy paths of Azarath, feeding her doves as she went. She never shielded Raven when Azar’s restrictions on her emotions got to be too much. 

_Zatanna let the smallest of smiles curl her lips as the furniture stopped moving. There were still crackles of magic at the girl’s fingertips, but nothing that she couldn’t handle. “Tel em pleh htiw ruoy seramthgin, Nevar.”_

_Raven shifted on the couch, languidly angling her resting face towards the magician. Behind her closed lids her nightmare raged on, but the external world couldn’t hurt her now. Not with her mother watching over her._

But, a treacherous voice reminded her, _Arella_ had never stayed up all night stitching together a superhero costume, she had never sprinted through Arkham in search of her, fighting off specters and villains as she went. She never had to shield Raven when her nightmares about Hell got to be too much. 

_With the destructive bursts of magic all but gone, Zatanna softly scooped Raven up into her arms, blankets and all. She kept her steps light and even as she made her way to Constantine’s bed, pressing her lips to the crown of Raven’s head._

_Constantine gave her a cocky smile as she passed by, one that screamed ‘See? She pulls at your heartstrings so damn fast, huh? You can’t deny that I’m the only one falling for her.’ Zatanna pointedly ignored him, instead carefully setting the girl down and tucking her in._

_She ran her hand through the demoness’ short hair again, glad when Raven didn’t stir. Keeping her ministrations up, Zatanna hummed as she felt the push of the dark aura against her own. Silently hyping herself up for what she was about to do, Zee mentally went through the steps she had to take. The magician rolled her shoulders once and closed her eyes, intertangling her magic with Raven’s with a touch of her thumb against the crimson gem in the girl’s forehead._

_Not used to delving into memories, yet alone minds, Zatanna admittedly fumbled her way through the girl’s most recent recollections: her confusion and hesitation of getting adjusted to earth, her curiosity and joy at learning more about the magic that she and Constantine used. Had she not been working for a more important mission, Zatanna might’ve lingered just to enjoy the child’s enthusiasm at her new living situation. But she kept her course, instead immediately jumping past recent days to the thick of things. The air in the room seemed to get hazier as the refuge of Constantine’s apartment faded away, but nothing was immediately clear to the mystic as she continued on. Bit by bit, Zee began her wade through the press of Raven’s memories of her time in Hell, not seeing or even experiencing them but feeling the horror that they carried._

_Her method was rather simple, all things considered: feel that thrumming hum of magic between her thumb and Raven’s gem, allow those volatile emotions that clung to the memories to flow through, command that they “eb dehsinab yawa ni yreve mrof dna reven laever sevlesmeht ot siht lrig niaga,” and let them go. Zee kept a steady pace as she went._

_Her arms nearly gave out, her concentration stumbling as she felt the strongest of emotions yet; the magician’s lips twisted down into a frown at the feeling of another presence through the demoness’ memories._

_Raven hadn't spoke too much on her other parent, but Zatanna was sure that_ this _was the demon responsible. His imprint of magic on the girl was all-encompassing, infinitely woven within her magic and her body. The part of the girl that allowed her to survive in Hell, the one that thrived among the devilish, brutish, spindly creatures that resided there, the part that was strong enough to propel her to John's magic when he made that oh-so-timely portal._

_That hint of magic slithered through Zee as she bypassed that particular memory, her lips pressing into a thin line at the emotions whispering out a threatening hiss, a warning. A cold shiver tap-danced down the magician’s spine at the feeling, but she pushed on past the horror, getting to the dread of his arrival and the guilt that preceded his finding Azarath._

_Trembling under Raven’s emotions as she got to the heart of the nightmare she had lived, Zatanna decided to overshoot her goal, locking away some of the less-than-traumatizing memories from just a few hours before the girl's home planet was destroyed._

_Taking a breath and mentally groaning as she had to go through the plethora of emotions again, the magician retraced her steps, repeating her spell with the finishing “Won, rednu ym dnammoc, etanimile eseht seiromem morf s’nevaR dnim reverof.” Zatanna kept her thumb to the girl’s forehead, ensuring that all the memories she had bypassed were securely erased. It reminded her of deleting files off a computer, nice and straightforward, although having to endure Raven’s emotions was far from pleasant._

_Zee shuddered, hunching over as the last wave of Raven’s turmoil washed over her. Her shoulders relaxed some as she felt the confusion when the demoness all but plopped out onto the hardwood floor in front of Constantine and stopped, satisfied that she'd done enough. Keeping her thumb pressed to the girl’s forehead, the magician didn’t stop the words from building in her throat, determined to finish this. She didn’t notice how the girl’s eyes glowed white under her lids, but the twist of black magic fluttering around the demoness’ body had her on high alert. Once the feather-light, inky coils started to fade away, Zee leaned down and kissed Raven’s forehead, “Dloh tuo tsuj a elttil elihw regnol. Uoy tsum eb mlac rof siht.”_

_The effect was near immediate. Raven’s body stilled, going so limp so quickly Zee worriedly pressed two fingers to her pulse, just in case. But the little mystic’s heartbeat was strong and calm under her fingers and Zatanna sighed, watching as all of Raven’s magic settled down with her, spent._

_Satisfied when the girl seemed to have calmed down completely, Zee picked up her wand and glanced behind her, glad at not seeing any hint of John listening in. She kept her voice low as she let the tip of the wand touch the gem on the girl’s forehead, whispering her final command, “Won peek gnipeels litnu gninrom semoc… dna reven rebmemer esoht seiromem. Rof ruoy ekas dna enim.”_

_Raven cooed as she turned on her side, her cheek completely smushed against the pillow. Zatanna shifted, the white cloak heavy on her frame as she brushed aside the girl’s bangs. Her lips trembled as her fingers fidgeted with her wand, still buzzing with the incredibly invasive magic she had just used._

That flood of emotions, as clear as the night they witnessed, so complex and overwhelmingly _complicated_. The drowning realization that she was beginning to fall in love, the lingering suspicion that any distrust towards the girl was lessened by her empathic powers, the fluttering in her chest when she’d woken up earlier that morning to Raven curled in between her and John in bed, the troublesome air of _evil_ that the demoness bore, the trusting aura of a girl who’d lost everything but was starting to make another home. 

The satisfaction of repressing the worst of the girl’s memories and the nightmares that were born of them, the stomach-twisting guilt of establishing their growing relationship with so intrusive of a lie.

Zatanna felt all of this as she watched Raven’s memory play out. A hand came up to rest on her stomach, clutching the cloak as a wave of her daughter’s ire washed over her. 

_The magician rested a hand on the girl’s stomach, her lips in a thin line as Raven shifted again, her eyes just barely creaking open as she readjusted to the bed’s mattress, softer than the couch. Everything about the girl sang out her comfort, from how she sunk into the blankets to how the light danced off her face._

Zatanna smiled down at her daughter as she watched the result of her memories being solidly locked away. The magician’s face was less of a memory and more of a mixture of faces that she’d make in the future, imagined by the five year old as she slipped further into sleep. 

_“It’s fine, Raven,” Zee’s voice was quiet as her face softened again, a sigh slipping out as she conceded that the little mage was here to stay. And, admittedly, she wasn’t all too broken up about the fact. Maybe not as eager as Constantine, but still excited._

The mystic set her wand down on top of the blankets, and as the horribly familiar white light of Raven’s mind consumed the rod, the pale gold flicker of magic gave way to _heat_. Orange and red, as explosive as as lava eruption, yellow and white, as blinding as molten metal. 

The two women couldn’t look away as the memory melted under that heat, the comfortable scene of Constantine’s bedroom burning into the dark, into something hot and intense and _dangerous_. 

Raven's face steeled at the uncomfortably familiar sight. Every ounce of self-preservation screamed at her to run away, to flee from the hypocritical clash of pure darkness and blindingly bright hellfire. She wanted nothing more than to turn back in the face of the coldest ice forming in her stomach, seeping through her very core and the stifling humidity of Hell around her, hot enough to singe the inside of her lungs if she dared to scream out. The empath felt her mother's horror, felt every flicker of mind-numbing _fear_ that the magician projected, but she did not reach for her. Maybe it was the resentment born from over a decade of lies finally coming to light, maybe it was the memory of the last time she was here, and the _acceptance_ that it ultimately brought. 

Hell (no pun intended, honest), maybe it was the easy choice, that she just that wasn't ready to forgive her mother until she had all the information. 

She thought of Arella, of Azar, of being adopted, of all the memories she had reclaimed so far. Without truly having to think about them, she thought about Azarath, about Jason, about her grandfather, about the memories that her mind told her that her mother had seen. Her hands stayed at her sides, tightening into fists as Zatanna took a deep breath, big enough for both of them.

And as the hellscape in front of them pried itself open, flame by flickering flame and tendril by inky tendril, as those last coveted memories revealed themselves to be within reach, the memory of Zatanna's voice wafted down over them, warm and maternal:

_“Sleep tight, Blackbird.”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW just in case for uhhh, Light Descriptions of torture? It's Hell. idk what else to say...

Despite his growing concern, Constantine knew better than to disturb Zatanna and Raven from their meditative state, even though it had already been well over three hours of standstill with no signs of return. They each remained perfectly still and stoic, no matter what obstacles they may have been facing inside of Raven's mind at any given moment.

Of course, there was always the possibility that they could find their collective consciousness trapped endlessly inside of the confines of ill-gotten memories or repressed nightmares. But he was certain, if nothing else, they would find a way to send him a sign of that struggle, and of a need for help, should it come to that.

So for now, he sipped a bitterly steeped tea, and flipped between vinyls of The Clash and Fleetwood. And for the second in painfully short amount of time, he found himself hoping against every instinct that told him otherwise, that his girls were safe.

...

The stench hit, long before anything else in this new memory. The unholy combination of burning flesh mingling with excrement. Zatanna could feel bile rising in her throat, but closed her eyes, and carefully swallowed instead.

She'd already spent so much of this time screaming uncontrollably. Now, a more rational side of her mind began taking over, that logical shut down of the terror that was incredibly  _unhelpful_  in a moment of crisis.

After all, this wasn't  _actually_  Hell, she found herself reasoning. This was just a memory of it. Nothing would hurt  _her_  here.

But  _everything_  was going to hurt the little girl that she had followed down this  _particularly_   _unpleasant_  rabbit hole.

When she remembered that, pushing past the blinding light and the mind-numbing terror within her, she could feel Raven's presence fully then. And the magician opened her eyes to see the girl's tiny body, curled in on itself in fear. It was instinct, then, running over to the girl and trying to pick her up. A desperate attempt to shield her from the torment that undoubtedly surrounded them.

Only to watch in horror as her own arms passed right through the girl, like those of a ghost.

She tried in vain, to turn the girl around by her shoulders, to grab her face to look into her eyes, anything to get her to focus  _away_  from what she was a witness to now.

" _Raven_ , it's  _not_  real. It's a  _memory,_ " she tried to remind the empath, to no avail. The girl's wide, amethyst eyes stared unblinkingly through the magician, and at the carnage beyond.

It was something that Zatanna was strangely familiar with. It was, after all, a kind of rite of passage for a mystic to visit Hell once or twice in a lifetime, if not to be doomed to spending an eternity there. Only if one upset the karmic balance of the universe too much, of course. Zatanna knew that she'd come close to that edge a few times in her life. But never close enough to warrant a lingering stay, never enough to earn eternal damnation.

Not yet, at least. And she certainly hoped to keep things that way.

Of course, she never was brought  _unwillingly_  to witness the worst that the Underworld had to offer. That was another reason for this hesitation to turn around, and to fully comprehend the horrors she had tried to save this girl from all of those years ago.

Steeling her nerves, she muttered one more reassurance, " _It's not real_ ,  _just a memory_ ," and turned to see what Raven had seen.

And most of all, to understand.

In the midst of a cliche of fire and brimstone, and as far as her eyes could see, this part of Hell was a little different from the others which she had been witness to in the past. While much of Hell had changed with the modern age, of introducing psychological torture and inducing metaphysical pain upon its new residents to accommodate to changing philosophies and fears, this area bore witness to the most classic cases of torture.

Zatanna tried not to let her eyes linger in any one area too long, viewing with as much detachment as possible. Bodies were being bent into unnatural shapes, before being torn apart with hideous glee lighting up the torturers' faces. Blood and sinew and bile dotted the landscape, rivers of sewage and masses of limbs. The screams, the laughter, the  _stench_  all assaulted her senses with renewed vigor, all mingled together in a violent cacophony of displeasure.

And suddenly, she longed once more for the mind games that were played upon the  _potentially repentant,_  as she recalled John calling them.

Here, in this particular Hell, there was no hope for redemption, no prayer of peace. There was only slaughter. And here, Zatanna wished once more she could take it all away again.

There were many different kinds of Hell, of course. But being subjected to witness one so violent, seemed nearly as cruel a fate as to endure it for oneself.

Turning away, she focused attention once more on her daughter.

The magician reminded herself, though Raven did not look it at the moment, and while she possibly didn't feel it, she was much older. She was wiser, stronger than the five year old that had tumbled down to this land of depravity. And now more than ever,  _she_  needed reminding of that.

" _Nevar, esaelp_ ,  _llet em uoy era ereh_ ," she softly commanded, whispered more like a wish than a request.

Her eyes flashed with momentary awareness, that emotionally turbulent amethyst clearing back into rich navy. But it was blinked away just as quickly, as her eyes fluttered and she shook her head.

"M- mommy?" she looked around hesitantly as she called out, eyes frantic and welling with tears now. "Where- Is there someone...?"

Recognizing that the girl's presence came back even stronger in that moment, Zatanna sighed in relief. She may have been reliving this hell all over again, but she wasn't  _lost_  in the memory. Not yet. Not completely.

"Raven, I hope- no, I  _know_  you can hear me. I promise I'm not going to leave you.  _Ouy t'now eb enola ni siht_."

A promise, which in  _this_  case, acts almost as a self-imposed curse. But then again, all promises, even without added magic, were cursed in one way or another.

Outside of their periphery, as Raven continued to call out for help that wasn't coming, red hot tendrils of fire morphed seamlessly into something resembling hands. They slinked along the ground until they reached the duo, and purposely started to wrap around the girl, unnoticed as she sat transfixed once more by the torment around her.

Zatanna tried calling out to the girl, to warn her of the impending danger around her now. But her cries fell on deaf ears, as those hands tightened around the demoness' small body and dragged her through a small gap that opened up in the ground behind her.

And though she knew it was useless, Zatanna found herself reaching again for Raven's small, outstretched hand, ghosting through it again as she tumbled down after her daughter, and into the darkness.

Only for that same pitch to turn alarmingly bright, when she opened her eyes against a completely different scene before her.

An officespace that could have belonged to any number of buildings in any number of cities, were it not for the completely blank white walls that seemed to stretch infinitely around them in all directions. Painfully white tiles dotted the ceiling and floor, which provided little context to the dimensions of the space. A single doorway, leading to a busy hallway provided no help whatsoever, and she could feel as it only served to raise Raven's level of anxiety as people flitted angrily through.

"Never mind,  _this_  is the Bad Place," Zatanna muttered to herself. She certainly wasn't  _suddenly_  longing again for the more straightforward torture that had played before them only moments ago, but she could sense the awful anxiety on all sides that must have absolutely assaulted the girl's senses.

Here inside this room, if it could truly be called that, a woman sat at a completely mundane desk with a few rows of filing cabinets behind her. She leaned far back in her chair, feet propped atop the desk with an air of disinterest as she loosely played with curling brown locks and flipped through files.

What Zee finally realized could only be  _human_  souls continued fluttering in and out of the adjacent hallway, more than a few tearing out their hair or mumbling under breath about missing forms or incorrectly filed documents. The woman paid them no mind as they only appeared to grow more frantic with each passing moment. One sat at a desk in the room across that hall, sobbing hysterically as she tried to white-out a page over and over, only for increasingly glittery ink to reappear at the top just as she finished with the bottom half. Another appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to deliver coffee, only for it to spill anew upon himself or others with each new cup.

They all disappeared as the woman at the desk flicked her wrist for the door to shut. More than she appeared to be. Likely a demon, then.

With that subtle  _click_ of the door, the room became unnaturally quiet, only Raven's quick breaths filling the space. The papers at the demon's desk rustled a bit as she switched between them, addressing, but not looking at, the girl.

"Hmm, let's see what we have here. A Daughter of Darkness. Pride of Lucifer. Spawn of Tr-"

"Who  _are_  you?" Raven asked, evidently working up enough courage to address the demon head-on.

"The name's Rybizen. You can call me Ry, cousin."

"Cousin?"

Zee could feel an odd calm that filled the room. The faintest hints of hope tickled at the periphery, and she found herself latching onto that feeling like a life preserver. Unfamiliar familiarity, the small kind of reprieve that must have saved Raven's sanity during this first trip down.

"Sure. Cousins," Ry said decidedly as she kicked her feet off of the desk and shuffled the papers back together, placing them back into the file as she continued, "We're all related here through some kind of convoluted  _fork-up_  in our family tree."

She flung open a drawer to the cabinet behind her then, letting it drift endlessly open for a second or two before stopping it. Raven's head swiveled comically to follow it's journey into an impossible eternity behind her, before watching it retract back into the cabinet at twice the speed it had been thrown open with.

"This whole  _forking_  place is a  _Looney Toon_ , I swear," Zee muttered again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest before turning attention back to the scene before her.

"There's no precedent for it, but it seems your father- or perhaps one of your brothers even, it's too close to tell-  _Someone_  wanted an audience with you." She rested her elbows at the desk, steepling her hands in thought as she looked over the girl for the first time. Raven stiffened in her chair at the sight of her glowing eyes, like dull coals that sat smoldering as they took in every part of the child before her.

Unlike how Zatanna remembered she would come to look by the end of her journey, at this moment the girl looked fairly well kempt. Her clothes were only partially singed from their descent before, and her bob was only slightly frizzed, nothing at all like the mess she recalled Constantine claimed she had looked upon his accidental summons.

But then again, the occultist was known to exaggerate when it suited his needs.

"And given your status, halfling," Ry said, interrupting the magician's nostalgia, "I don't think you're in much of a  _position_  to deny them."

"I... I do not-"

Just as the girl tried to protest, the phone rang on Rybizen's desk, cutting her off. The demon listened carefully to the voice on the other line, eyes shifting back between the girl and her papers, humming agreements or dissents before finally hanging up the line.

"Speak of the devils," the demon smiled wryly before adding under her breath, "-Always did wanna say that, with some irony- That was your brother. And you, my dear, will be seeing him  _right now_."

Before Raven could even open her mouth to protest again, Ry flicked her wrist another time, sending the girl's chair tumbling backward, and the girl herself was flung back into yet another opening, a pitch black hole opening inside of those blinding white tiles that dotted the floor. And Zatanna found herself once again, tumbling after the child as she screamed for help once more.

...

It was when they started to approach the six hour mark, that Constantine started to seriously consider calling in back up. But the question remained, who could possibly be qualified for this sort of ordeal? Zatanna was already the best mortal equipped to handle such a task. Raven had been slowly inching towards surpassing them for quite some time now.

No, there'd be no trying to plead uselessly with  _Fate_. No calling in the  _Dark_  for aid that could simply  _not_  be adequately provided. And no matter how much John wished he could have followed them in, he knew it wouldn't do to harbor any regrets now.

Not when, as he check both of their pulses, he began to worry as it registered almost too faintly.

But perhaps, in times like this, he could count on at least one old fling to help him out of his growing worry.

Though he knew  _Zatanna_  never thought much of the Nightmare Nurse, he was sure  _Raven_  wouldn't mind a little help from Auntie Asa.

He set right to work, making the necessary call for backup.

...

Raven remembered it all now. Those days of mundanity that lead up to this awful and unexpected field trip into Hell. The voices of her father and brothers, like tiny, nagging whispers that encouraged her to gather the right ingredients, and coached her through the right incantations. That nagging sense in other parts of her head that told her curiosity would better be satisfied by simply asking Arella or Azar these questions that plagued at her psyche.

All of that instantaneous regret when she realized that all she really seemed to do was fall from one trap into another with each passing moment in this horrible place.

Yes, she remembered thinking in those moments, about being all of five years old and falling so much. Of how little she had been aware of her sense of self and that first fleeting acceptance and understanding, that her actions truly did have consequences. And in between that, wondering exactly who and what these voices were to bring her here to such a horrid place.

She wondered why, despite all of the suffering she could feel around her, why it tickled such a delighted part of her soul to witness it. As if it understood the justice that was being carried through, that most of that suffering around her was earned, and right, despite how horrible it all was.

And she remembered how much that scared her, more than anything she actually  _saw_  as it unfolded before her.

And now, at this particular crossroads, she remembered meeting with that first brother. His name spoken too quickly for her to catch onto, especially given the whiplash that occurred as her descent was brought to an abrupt halt, and she was distracted by the alarming change in appearance.

While the demon, her 'Cousin Ry', before had chosen a more  _human-like_  form to blend more easily with her  _human_  subjects, evidently this brother had done away with even the slightest  _pretense_  of offering these souls the uncanny and disquieting comfort. A grotesque cliche of gnarled horns adorned his head, all crimson red skin and glowing yellow eyes that kept Raven's full attention as he prattled on about their siblings ' _joining them soon_ '.

"A shame that Father stayed behind to lay waste to that insipid dimension. It's expanses would hardly cover half of an average hospitable planet! It'd be a waste to send even a  _meager_  army of  _ghouls_  to torment those inhabitants, much less a demon like  _him_!" he snickered to himself as he prattled on, circling around the girl like a tiger eyeing its prey. "But  _who am I_ , to question the ways of Trigon the Terrible!? I suppose, it may be understandable, given the more...  _personal_  reasons for such an attack-"

"You... you mean Azarath," Raven gasped in realization. "You mean  _Azarath_  is-"

"Being  _utterly laid to waste_? Yes. You would do well to keep up, Sister-"

"Oh, don't torment her so, Brother dearest," a new voice called from just beyond the ring, "The whole reason he was able to steal her away was because she's so painfully young and dull.  _You_  would do well to remember that."

"Oh,  _Belial the Bully_! Here to put all the Sons of Trigon in their place!" another chimed in.

A sea of disturbingly familiar voices soon flooded the space, each one raised higher, louder over the rest at they tried to get in the last word. Some of the devils started shoving one another, trying to take what each perceived to be the best thrones in the circle, and growing more violent in their scramble with each push and accompanying threat.

In her minds eye, in a memory within this memory, more and more clearly those last fleeting moments on Azarath before she had been pulled away began to take shape.

She remembered a form rising from the runes she had drawn, a flash as acolytes closest to her were vaporized. That awful gleeful grin that greeted her in welcome.

As those monsters continued their arguing and as their anger fed more and more deeply into her own fragile state, she could feel her emotions becoming undone again.

She could feel that demon lurking just beneath the surface. After being so tightly kept under wraps, so few years of learning to keep it at bay, yet so much training being undone in one awful, horrible moment of weakness.

"Stop. I- I want to remember something else," she whispered, shutting her eyes tightly. A momentary awareness, that this  _wasn't_  her reality,  _wasn't_  her present. "I want my- my mom. I need-"

She paused. Because it certainly wasn't Arella who sprung to her mind then.

Sapphire eyes that shone brighter than the San Francisco bay. Straight black hair, that always absolutely glittered in the magic of stage lights. A warm smile that could melt the iciest of Gotham winters. And a voice, a strong mezzo-soprano that could cut through the worst of nightmares, that was already a verse through an all too familiar tune.

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_ ," it continued faintly, voice low and cracking. Raven finally felt its owner's presence reached hesitantly forward to touch the girl's shoulder again. And though the hesitancy she could feel from it now, told her that it should have ghosted right through her, she was pleasantly surprised to feel the warmth of a loving hand against her skin. And the voice continued the verse, her voice much stronger at the reassurance.

" _Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_."

She leaned forward to embrace the girl, this memory of her, fully into a hug now. The possibility that disturbing the memory would cause untold damage be damned, she knew this was what her daughter needed of her right now.

" _All your life..._ "

As Raven felt her mother's love and concern, she heard her own small voice join the magician's. The song, a lullaby that had carried them both together through so many a tumultuous night. Their voices lilted together in time, in familiar harmony, alto and soprano. Magic and emotion. Mother and daughter.

" _You were only waiting for this moment to be free_."

As Raven's arms wrapped around the sorceress' body, and held her tight with impossible strength. She knew she had her mother back. And she was grateful all at once for her presence.

"I tried to tell you, Blackbird," Zatanna laughed with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, "I tried to tell you, that you're not alone here."

"I know. But..." Raven brushed away the tears that were starting to form in her own eyes, quick and careless. "But there's still so much I'm missing here. Azarath's last moments, and my brothers and-"

"And we can get to that in time," Zee reassured her, gripping the young woman tight in her arms and pressing a kiss to her crown, "But please, Raven. Even  _you_  have limits. Let's revisit something pleasant. And then-" she turned the empath by her shoulders to look at her sternly, "Then we dive into these memories together,  _capisce_?"

The young mage only laughed, squeezing and opening her eyes again to clear the memory before them. And once again, the world around them shifted.

"I believe  _you_  are already familiar with this gallery of moments?" Raven chimed, her tone lightly accusatory as their feet touched back down onto the floor of a Wayne Manor hallway. "Go ahead and take your pick, Mom."

...

"They've been under for  _ten bloody hours_ , Asa. I really don't know what else I can tell you," Constantine sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

"Their auras are strong, their pulses are fine-" she started, an air of boredom and annoyance slipped through her voice that John was more than privy to.

"It's too long to be so lost like that!"

"And I'm telling you, they're fine. Gods knows, you've spent longer in much worse magical comas. Be grateful that this was a voluntarily induced one, instead of some awful  _accident_ -"

" _That's the thing._  I'm worried they may have run into an accident in there and-"

"Do you want my formal diagnosis, John? Or do you just want an excuse to insert yourself where you don't belong?" the Nightmare Nurse said, crossing her arms over her chest with some finality, and stance changing from bored, to something just subtly more aggressive.

This made the exorcist finally pause, and really consider where his concern was coming from.

"I just... I want to know my daughter is okay. I want Zee to be safe, and," he sighed, "Asa, please. Just give me  _something_  I can  _do_ , instead of sitting here with twiddling my thumbs and  _praying_  for a miracle."

"Didn't know you were the  _praying_  type," she said snidely. His pleading look was all that was needed before she opened her mouth to make any more comments. She cleared her throat before changing gears and taking a seat on his couch. "Why don't you fix me something to drink? And I can tell you all about the drama that you've been missing out between all of the creatures of the night that you three have been neglecting."

"Y'know," he chuckled lowly, putting his hands in the air in relent, "That might just be exactly the distraction I need." He moved leisurely to the kitchen, trying to let an internal debate of whether  _caffeine_  or  _alcohol_  would be best appreciated drown out the worry that continued to nag at the edges of his thoughts.

Zatanna and Raven's bodies were safe. Their minds, as far as they could tell, were in tact. What was supposed to be a simple procedure was taking longer than expected, but all appeared well.

Well enough, for the moment.


	10. Chapter 10

Raven’s invitation was rather open, so the first memory on the magician’s mind the easiest to find. Zatanna had been pulled towards it the moment she’d first dropped into the Hall of Memories, but hadn’t had the time to linger. Her steps were steady as she strode back to the beginning of the hallway, stopping directly in front of the memory that she hadn’t been a part of.

Beside her, she heard her daughter swallow the air in her throat. 

Zee let out a sigh, making no move to explore just yet. The quiet little sight of Raven and Constantine was melancholy and heartbreakingly familial. The teenager’s cheek was smushed against the side of his head, her pale hands sinking into the cotton of his shirt as she rubbed his back and the Brit’s tears were dropping into his whiskey, the dark bottle more than half-empty.

If the tiny Christmas tree on the desk was any indication, that night had been the start of the breaking point that ended their longest separation yet, one that Raven didn’t like thinking about all too much. The floor that they stood on quivered at her emotions, rippling the light like a disturbed pond.

Zee touched her daughter’s arm, biting the inside of her cheek as the hall just barely wavered back to normal. The young woman jumped as if shocked, whipping her head to look at her mother. Sapphire eyes noted but didn’t linger on how the world around them trembled again, barely noticeable even if one were paying attention to it. Zatanna glanced at the memory of her lover’s tearstained face one last time then turned to the other windows of light that made up the hallway. 

Her daughter was still far too antsy from remembering her brothers, this particular one would have to wait. 

The walls shook again, glitching the shadows behind the windows’ frames. Zee caught the movement this time and reached to hold the mage’s hand, murmuring out, “Is everything alright?”

Raven bounced her shoulders and closed her eyes. Zee was patient as she took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, aiming an encouraging, exhausted nod at her mother. A brave face, one that was slowly but surely getting genuine with the mostly comfortable memories that surrounded them, “Just got a bit overwhelmed. Let’s get going?”

Zatanna ran a tongue over her teeth. She tugged at the empath’s hand, leading them to a space in between two other windows. Both displayed scenes they both recognized. Before Raven could react the magician reached forward to the older memory of the two, her hand slipping into the scene as if it were water. 

She hesitated for half a second at the burst of chilly air against her palm but held her daughter’s hand as she stepped forward, blinking as the hallway’s tiles under her feet gave way to the grainy dust of the desert. Zatanna’s eyes spotted a familiar VW, obnoxiously cherry red despite the dusky sky. 

The magician squeezed their palms together. Raven intertwined their fingers and let her mother lead the way to the soft memory that she’d promised. 

\--

The Nightmare Nurse raised a brow, silently craning her head to watch as Constantine busied himself around the kitchen. He had started the coffee maker, popped open some bottles and hop-skipped to the cabinets to grab the mugs. 

The blond didn’t speak so she kept quiet, letting him be.

A few bustling minutes later Asa let out a snort as a white russian was placed in front of her, her dark eyes flicking up to John’s face. The Brit only shrugged, quickly plopping down and taking a gulp of his own drink. He didn’t dare let his eyes drift to where his family still lay, hoping that caffeine _and_ alcohol would be enough to soothe his battered nerves. 

Ten hours of waiting was far too much in his opinion. 

With that in mind, he tossed his head back and downed the drink. Asa lazily swiped the top of her whipped cream with her finger, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as he jumped up and refilled his mug. She rested her cheek on her palm, watching as he poured a swig’s worth of whatever he kept in his flask into his coffee.

The mystic clicked her tongue when he stayed quiet, “I thought you wanted a diagnosis?”

Another swig’s worth was dumped in. Constantine rubbed at his jaw, knowing that he was in dire need of a shave. He leaned against the counter and held up his mug, “Tell me what you think.”

Her words were immediate, “They seem perfectly healthy. Each are as stable as anyone in a magical coma could be.” She paused, drumming her fingers against the glass’ handle as she leaned back in her chair. Asa’s eyes squeezed shut and then immediately opened back up again. The demon wasn’t looking forward to his stressing, but she knew he’d have a fit if she didn’t reveal her rather _minor_ suspicions. 

She owed him that much. Asa took a small sip of her drink, the word coming out in a reluctant sigh, “But…” 

Neck snapping so fast she wondered if it was the alcohol or the caffeine that kept him from getting whiplash, Constantine’s gaze zeroed in on her. “But?” John’s voice was terse, raising half a pitch as he crossed his arms, “Asa, tell me what’s going on!”

The demon sighed again. Her gaze flicked from Constantine to her drink and she turned her torso, considering Raven for a moment. Behind her, the Brit’s leg was shaking so much she wondered if the downstairs neighbors thought he was tap-dancing. Asa bit her lip and took in the calmness on her kinda-niece’s face, her brows furrowing a second before she asked, “Just how strong is her healing factor, exactly?” 

John frowned, “She can heal herself and others fast enough.” He dragged his chair closer to hers and sat, electing to simply take a sip from his flask as he waited for her to elaborate. 

Asa clicked her tongue, stifling a chuckle and growing a frown at the memory of Raven's impatience the first time they'd tried margaritas together. The Nightmare Nurse had gotten drunk in the time it'd taken the no-longer preteen to get thoroughly tipsy, and it took quite a lot for her to get _that_ pants-shittingly drunk on _margaritas_. She shook the memory away and glanced at the two mystics again, her fingers neatly drumming on the table, “Did they take the same amount?”

“Rae took a dose and a half more.” 

There was a pause and then a _clink!_ as Constantine knocked his flask against her mug, bringing her attention back to him. Asa bit the inside of her cheek, the words coming to her at the sight of the beginnings of bags under his eyes, “I can’t believe I’m saying this to _you_ , but you’re worrying far too much.” 

His blue eyes narrowed and she added, “It isn’t a matter of them losing control, just of the drug weakening.”

The Brit opened his mouth to ask and she held up a hand, interrupting him before his rant could start, “Her memories, the mood swings that they could cause…” Asa waved her hand in the air and pinched in between her eyes, “The drug won’t keep down her _emotions_ , John. You said if she starts physically feeling, her powers may act out. And if they don’t come out before she’s completely sober--”

He interrupted her, standing and hastily making his way to where his family lay, “Then Rae’ll have to stay until Zee gets back out.” His fingers drummed against the couch as his gaze worriedly ran over them, grateful that they weren't in trouble yet. He knew that drugs had to be stronger to affect his daughter longer, and that Zee was no lightweight herself, but still his mind was racing.

Asa watched him from the table, resting an elbow on the chair’s back and taking another sip of her drink. She stayed silent until she heard the worry in his voice, “Asa…” The Nightmare Nurse leaned back to face him, her eyes calm although the tiniest, barest flicker of concern shone in her eyes, “How well are you at restraining her magic?”

That obviously wasn’t the topic he wanted to discuss, “You aren’t worried about Zee getting stuck?!” 

“I’m completely sure of her abilities, like you should be,” Constantine huffed at the reproachful look she shot him and Asa finished the rest of her drink. She wiped her lips with her thumb, musing to herself, “Raven is more than durable enough to hold things down in there. And Zee’s capable enough to not lose herself, drug or not.” 

She stood and made her way to the couch, sternly poking the center of the demonologist’s collarbone, “And _you’re_ strong enough to not get sloppy when they need us to stay watch.”

John’s glare lessened and he rubbed when her nail had jabbed into him, nodding in agreement, “Right.”

“Good. Now,” The woman stood and flipped the hair off her shoulder, looking over the mass of books that littered the apartment floor, “Which runes work best on our favorite bird?”

\--

Looking around the familiar stretch of desert, Raven let go of her mother’s hand, wiping away the sand that blew into her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcibly shaking her head as she aimed her gaze towards her feet. The air was chilly, the wind was dusty, and the emotions were _tense_.

Honestly, as drab as the scenery was on her long ago impromptu road-trip, this place was unforgettable. Not just for what had happened --what she was about to re-experience, Raven reminded herself-- but even for the whole backdrop to this reconciliation. 

Just as she knew that the desert had yet to get as cold as it would, the demoness knew that everything would be alright; she wrung her hands together and let out a breath, watching it condense in the air. Raven knew that this memory’s happy ending didn’t take too long, but there was still that hump (incredibly tiny as it was) that they had to get past. Indigo eyes darkened until they were nearly violet, spotting a tumbleweed pinned halfway under a rock and the light glow of a van’s overhead light reflecting off the window. 

Raven sighed, _of course_ the memory would start here.

Without truly realizing it, she started walking to where she knew Pam had parked the van. The redhead would be lounging in the front seat, keeping a keen eye out for any indication that they were still being followed; Harley would still be fumbling to unfurl the crinkled map, the most child-friendly _“son of a butcher!”_ escaping her as the map folded in on itself again; Raven would be wrapping and unwrapping a starburst, trying to pinpoint whether or not she really felt her mother's aura back on the highway. 

A lazy smile curled her lips and the empath's steps slowed to a stop as she blinked down at the small white letters on the wrapper. The girl sighed, catching Pam's gaze in the rearview mirror. The siren gave her a smile and Raven clung to the botanist's trickle of calm, leaning back in her seat as her fingers fiddled with her seatbelt. 

The wind shifted and the mage let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as a bright pair of headlights lit up the van. She poked her head out the back window, squinting at the vehicle that had come up behind them and letting out a gasp as the van’s engine roared back to life.

She didn’t _hear_ the “Enigne, tuhs ffo!” that Zatanna commanded into the air, but she _did_ recognize that familiar hum of magic that thrummed almost loud enough to fill her chest. It pulsed against her, sparking dangerously as the magician felt her daughter's aura through the van’s walls. 

Although neither siren wanted to fight the cacti shifted, aiming their prickles in the heroes’ direction. Eyes going wide and an awful spray of adrenaline gripping her chest, Raven scrambled up to the front, landing in Harley’s lap, “Wait!”

There was a pause as Zee caught sight of her daughter’s silhouette and heard her voice; the mother didn’t hesitate to raise her wand again, magic poised and ready. Diana jumped out and prepared to cut them off from the front, considering lifting the vehicle in the air if she could get there in time. The Amazon’s steps faltered as Zatanna swung out her wand, angrily crying out with the tone that only a parent could hold, “Tuo fo eht rac, WON!”

Raven felt the mass of emotions unknot from her stomach and catch in her throat as the three were forcibly yanked out. The memory’s floor wavered at the intensity but the empath clung to her mother’s trickle of hope and the sirens’ protectiveness as they shielded her. 

The sky flickered again and the stars lit up, glitching as the growing black splotches fought against the destroying white light. None of them noticed, not even as Diana flew up a few feet to get out of the cacti’s range. 

Pam faltered at her silhouette, completely visible without the headlights blinding them. In an instant the tension completely melted off of Harley as she recognized those biceps, her words coming out loud and relieved, “Oh. Heya, Wondy!”

Raven let out a breath at the sight of the hero, a wave of hope filling her. She let that hope blossom into happiness, her whole form feeling lighter as Zatanna’s voice called out, “Raven!” 

“Mom!”

Harley let her go and she flew as fast as she could to her mother, the breath escaping her lungs in a huff as Zee met her at the middle. They melted into a spinning hug and Raven sighed as she felt the force of their emotions, both past and present. Sure, the lingering knot in her stomach was less than ideal and that brief twinge of fear when Zatanna didn’t immediately recognize the sirens was agonizing, but this was good.

Calm, comfortable, familiar. 

Raven sunk into their embrace, hearing but not registering the words that escaped her mother. No, all she paid attention to was the warmth of their hug, the lingering heat of the sand below them as they fell into a pile, the relief and happiness that burst from Zatanna as she could ease her frazzled nerves with the mere fact that her beloved Blackbird was back in her arms again. 

The mystics let themselves fall into the ease of this part of the memory. They didn’t notice how the light consumed Diana and the sirens, nor did they notice the growing blip of blackness that was immediately swallowed up by the memory’s fading. 

Zee kissed her daughter’s forehead for the tenth time in as many seconds and, without either of them even realizing it, the light consumed them too. 

Then it disappeared and another blip of light instantly took its place. 

No, not the memory's light. The flash of a camera and the obnoxious _click! click! click!_ as group of paparazzi huddled near a pier’s wooden base. Raven looked up, noting her mother’s suddenly shorter bangs, the shell-filled sand under their feet and hearing the crash of Santa Monica’s waves behind her. 

Both immediately reacted as their roles commanded without a second thought, although there was an undercurrent of apprehension at the memory beginning from the middle. But the emotional shift from the empty desert to the crowded beach was a radical one and _dear Azar_ , Raven could wholeheartedly admit that she hadn’t missed Los Angeles. The weather was fun and the food amazing but the stench of fame and desperation was… not as enjoyable, empath or not.

The ground wavered under them, flickering black so suddenly that neither mystic saw but both felt it. Raven didn’t pay the disturbance any mind, too occupied with the heavy press of the paparazzi and the thick emotions that slithered out of them, even being that far away. Without really thinking, Raven did as the memory commanded, tugging at her mother’s skirt and glancing towards the crowds just a minute’s run away. 

Everyone relaxing on the beach hadn’t noticed the cameras just yet, more preoccupied with watching their kids skip away from the kelp-filled waves and avoiding the circling seagulls. The empath pulled at Zee’s wrist again, her indigo eyes flicking from the cameras to the ocean, “We can hide on the pier!” 

Zee’s eyes lit up at her idea and the magician snorted, tapping her nose, “Let’s make it a quick show for all these families first, eh?”

“And confuse those cameramen?”

Her mother winked and pulled her wand out of her tote, “Exactly.”

A man with a boom mic started awkwardly jogging on the sand and Zee lifted her wand to the sky, her voice drawing attention as she announced, “Plek, ni eht ria!”

A gaggle of kids squealed as the seaweed rose up and out of the waves, following the magician’s command. It hovered in midair for a second before Raven let out a snicker. She bounded forward until her flip flops sunk in the wet sand, raising both hands and commanding the plant, “I lliw dael uoy, wollof ym cigam!”

She grinned as she let the rest of the beachgoers’ surprise run through her, waggling her fingers as a lanky mass of black magic hid under the sopping leaves. A cackle escaped the girl as she started down the shoreline towards the bright lights and body-consuming joy of the boardwalk, aiming for just underneath the ferris wheel. 

“T’nod nur, s’tel ecnad sdrawot eht reip daetsni,” Zee lazily called out, sidestepping a crumbling sandcastle as she trailed behind her skipping daughter. A boy was gaping open-mouthed at them (his eyes bulging as the kelp _danced_ , it's disjointed hips shaking as it stepped a second behind Raven). The magician caught the kid’s eye, stage whispering to the sand, “Worg xis teef hgig!” 

The kid gaped even more as his sandcastle expanded to a sandpalace, his parents’ wide eyes following Raven as she held the kelp’s hand, flinging some water the paparazzi’s way. They cursed at the droplets now spotting their lenses and at the sandcastle blocking their view, missing as the magician took off in a sprint. The mother tossed her head back in a laugh, giggling as she passed Raven and their puppet. 

They were nearing the pier and the girl's lips split as an idea came to her. The mage laughed as she ran up to catch her mother, jumping in the air and staying there for a half second longer than she should've. Raven turned as she started falling back to the ground, spreading her arms wide and crying out, “Uoy nac edolpxe won, ym yplek dneirf!”

Zee let out a sigh as her daughter’s magic sent the seaweed flying in all directions, splattering the beach to the sound of both humans and seagulls screaming. One large piece went on a particularly long arch and as everyone stopped to watch she scooped Raven up in her arms, reveling in the memory’s burst of excitement at the loud _splat!_ of the kelp landing on one of the cameras. 

No one noticed them in the chaos. And with a simple “Elpirt pmuj!” Zee landed on the edge of the pier, steadying herself on the wood and ducking next to some of the fishermen there. She beamed at them as they laughed, cheering and whistling and waving their fishing poles at the show. 

Raven looked up and giggled, leaning against her mother as they balanced next to the iceboxes. The demoness knew that her extra flair might not have been _necessary_ , but their impromptu audience seemed to appreciate it. She hid her smile behind her palm, savoring the paparazzi’s confusion; it was almost as sweet as the fishermen’s giddy applause and the suntanners’ laughter.

She took a moment to rest against Zatanna’s side, soaking in all the emotion that the beach brought when she felt the shift. Something curled in her stomach and a not-so-subtle blip abruptly took her out of the memory’s grasp and then shoved her back in. The empath went still as she shuddered at the emotional whiplash, forcing her to her knees. 

Her magic impatiently slithered through her mind to find her, desperate to bring her back at any cost, only to leave her be at the drug's command with nary a thought of her emotions. The world flickered again as Raven came back to the memory, a lump in her throat. This time, Zee noticed how her daughter’s magic morphed with the glitch, watching as the spot of black flashed white and began to consume the light. 

The magician felt Raven’s sharp burst of fear and touched her shoulder, letting out a yelp as the white light filled her sight. Raven’s breath audibly caught as _something_ shoved them both and they went sprawling off the pier, landing on the hall of memory’s not-quite-tile floors. 

\--

Constantine’s leg shook as he sat on the couch’s arm, watching as the tiniest flickers of magic crackled on his daughter’s fingertips. They disappeared almost too quick to notice, but he felt them there. 

He also felt his heart twist at the way Zee's face started to scrunch up, her brows moving in time with Raven's powers. 

Asa lazily considered the demoness for a moment. They had sketched out three runes around her and one around Zee, but they seemed to _just_ be starting to sober up, miniscule as it was. The demoness ran a tongue over her teeth; if Constantine’s worried mumblings were indication enough (and they usually were), then nothing that they were reliving now was any more physically intense than some of the first experiences they went through. 

She wasn’t worrying yet, but she _really_ hoped they were at least close to wherever they needed to be. Her gaze flicked to the Brit, his foot shaking so bad she wondered if he’d gotten through his day’s step count, “How’d they take it?”

“We’re not about to inject _anything_ into my daughter.”

She rolled her eyes at his immediate response. The nurse’s face turned back to Raven and her brows scrunched up in thought. The girl’s face was slack enough in this not-quite coma and she mused aloud, “Holding it in her mouth might be our best bet if things get _really_ out of control.”

John huffed and she added, “But they're still a long way from us needing to do _that_.” Asa carefully brushed aside the young woman’s hair as she spoke, eyes narrowing as Raven’s magic sparked over her skin. She pulled her hand back and heard Zee groan as a rather strong burst of energy nearly enveloped the empath’s knuckles.

Constantine kissed his love’s forehead once and stood, “There’s a few spells, even more runes that’ll help. I’m gonna go find them.”

\--

Raven wasn’t _panicking_. She wasn’t. 

Zee knew what her daughter looked like when she panicked. This was… close enough, but not too bad just yet. So, she took a second to calm the questions bubbling in the back of her throat and then touched her daughter’s shoulder, waiting until indigo eyes rose up to meet her gaze. 

“Blackbird, what was that?”

Raven winced at the question and another shudder made the ground’s color flicker black. 

“Hey,” Zatanna’s voice softened and she cupped the young woman’s cheeks, “Stay calm for me, alright?” She smiled, trying to calm her down, “That was your magic, wasn’t it?”

The demoness’ lips trembled as another glitch occured, weaker than before, “Yeah.”

The magician pecked her temple, rubbing circles in her daughter’s skin. She took a deep breath, feeling as Raven tried to mimic her. They stayed like that for a long minute until the flickers slowed down considerably; Zee ran her fingers through the empath’s hair, “Just keep breathing, Raven. We must be sobering up.”

Her wording got a half-hearted laugh. “This might be worse than a hangover,” Raven quietly joked, her words flat and tired.

Zee chuckled, pecking her daughter’s forehead, “Maybe. But just keep holding everything together, Blackbird.” She hesitated, tapping her fingers over the mage’s long hair, “We’re almost there.”

Raven winced at the recognition that they’d have to go back to her memories of Hell, turning and motioning weakly to her worst Christmas memory, “I held things together in there too. Maybe we could--”

Another forehead kiss cut her off before she could get hopeful, “I don’t think we’ll have time for that.”

“But…” 

Zee waited but she didn’t continue. Raven cast a longing look to the memory, her face starting to crumple as she glanced to where the Hall began, the ground speckled with cracks of her magic. The magician took a breath, “I _know_ , but we might not have time. We both gotta get out of here before too long.” 

Zatanna touched her hand, bringing the demoness’ attention back to her, “Remember why we’re here, Love.” She brushed aside messy bangs and ran a thumb over Raven’s cheek, “You need to know what happened to Azarath.”

Sapphire eyes squeezed shut, “I know, but my _brothers_ …”

“I’ll be right there with you, Blackbird. I promise.”

Raven reluctantly nodded at her mother's words, concerned about facing all aspects of her family when her sobriety was apparently becoming an issue. The hallway wavered again and Raven felt the magic -- _her magic_ \-- creeping through her mind. A spot opened not even a step away from their feet. 

Zee tensed at the sight. Raven let out a shaky breath, kneeling down to get a closer look at the inky splotch. Her fingers started to reach out and she felt as her mother put a hand on her shoulder, Zee’s words quiet as she warned, “We probably shouldn’t… just in case.”

Right. They didn’t know how much acknowledging her powers would do in here, let alone back in the real world. Raven hesitated at the thought, hoping that nothing was happening while Dad kept watch. But she’d see him soon enough. Just had to get over these last two humps. 

Making up her mind, she steeled herself and closed her eyes. She focused on the warm of her mother’s hand and softly spoke her mantra, wondering which memory would be the lesser of two evils. But, luckily or not, she didn’t have to choose. As “Azarath, mentrion, zinthos,” slipped past her lips, Zee’s grasp on her shoulder hardened nearly to the point of pain, a gasp escaping the mystic at the sight of Trigon glaring down at them. 

No, not at _them_. 

The hall crackled with tendrils of her power, the soft colors falling away to smoke and ash and lava. It took everything in Zee not to take a step back as the gnarled bodies began to take shape around them, almost as intimidating as the heat that rose up to consume them both. 

Raven kept her eyes closed and grabbed the hand on her shoulder, silently chanting her mantra and avoid the sight of her family, of _him_. The portal that a handful of his strongest sires had made just for her, their forms curling around the two mystics to the flickering beat of the hellfire sizzling in the air. Raven’s brothers cackled as they watched their father rear his head back and let out a laughing roar, his magic demolishing Azarath in waves. 

The memory was relentless as one of them lifted their hand and a tendril of magic yanked her chin up, indigo eyes locking onto the portal right as a stomp shattered a group of acolytes, their stone bodies breaking into a plethora of undistinguishable, unsalvageable pieces. And just like that, those overwhelming emotions surged back into her: Azarath, hellfire, the scent of rotting meat and the wave of uncontrollable _power_ that rolled off her father and coated her home. 

Her siblings cackled again, the shadows around them darkening in splotches as more and more of her power intermingled with the memory. Their laughter was ear-splitting, rising up with the bile and trepidation in her throat. It all but _dared_ her to stand up, to face the family that she was born to join.

Raven felt a hollow sort of sorrow in her chest and tearfully repeated her mantra again, not sure whether her shaky words were a memory or not. She kept her gaze on the portal, on her _home_ as it was destroyed beyond recognition. The splotches of her magic grew larger, spurned on by her emotions. 

They curled around her brothers and sisters, shielding them in the shadows and making their jeers and cackles all too real. Raven stared at her father, feeling her breathing start to quicken. Her siblings, her magic, her father, her mother. What was the memory? What was real? She couldn’t do this! Why did she ever think--

A warm hand ran through her hair and the empath let out a gasp as Zee wrapped her in a hug, light and protective. The heavy blanket of emotion just barely lifted, but she could breathe. She could think, could remember that this was just a memory. 

Her power’s advance wavered, not quite halting but slowing enough to give both mystics a relief. Raven sunk into her mother’s hug, her tired eyes moving to watch as one of her brothers --the one who called her here-- languidly strolled out of the shadows. 

She watched his steps, feeling the bloom of fear that filled her chest as a child. Her hand found her mother’s and she whispered out, “Promise we can go back to the hall.”

Her brother smiled unnaturally wide, a show of sharp teeth. His emotions were a wave of anger and curiosity and entitlement; what did he _want_ from her? Raven blinked and felt the tears run over her lids, confused and scared; she was just a child for Azar’s sake!

Another burst of horror as he stopped in front of them. The ground didn’t just glitch but shifted and the two nearly toppled over. Zee kept her face blank as she regained her balance, keeping her gaze away from the demons that mockingly called for her daughter to join them. Regret filled her voice, “You know I can’t do that, Blackbird.”

Raven nodded and let her shoulders sag, hoping to everything and every deity that her brothers would at least _prepare_ her for her father. 

She knew that they probably wouldn’t, but at least her mom was by her side. Memory or not that had to count for something, right?

\--

Constantine let out a heavy breath as his daughter's magic burst out again, tugging on the edge of his coat. He and Asa exchanged a look as the couch rocked and the side table flipped over. Raven’s magic shied away and he moved towards his study, frantically scanning the books’ spines for another spellbook. 

Asa stayed watch, biting the inside of her cheek as she stared down at the two mystics. Another outburst of the empath’s magic shook the room and she glanced to Zee’s strained face, wondering if they _both_ needed another dose.

As if reading her mind, Constantine reappeared, a tome in hand. He aimed a pointed look her way and she pushed the container aside. His answer to her unspoken question was clear as day: _Not yet._

She nodded, sitting down near Zee’s feet. A tendril of magic curled around Raven’s wrist and down along her fingers, curling them into a tight fist. Constantine’s brows furrowed and he tore his gaze back to the book; Asa let out a hum and brought out her lighter. 

She lit the candle and he got to work.


End file.
